


Dead Man's Arms

by UnfortunatelyObsessed



Category: Supernatural
Genre: "you can't always get what you want" plays softly in the background, A LOT OF WHUMP, And some crack, Blind!Dean, Blood and Injury, Bobby is the best dad okay, Brother fic, Brotherly Bonding, C'mon, Choose Wisely, Christmas, Dissociation, Dog!, Firefighter!Dean, Gen, Grims, Horror, I mean, It's supernatural, Mystery, Nightmares, Now with artwork!, PTSD, Pain, Southern Gothic, Suspense, Teen!Dean, They're both young, Two different endings, Zombie, Zombie!Sam, and a twig snaps, basically a sherlock holmes novel, but also fluff, church grim, dark but also light, doing my best to capture that feeling when you're in unfamiliar woods alone, family fic, kid Sam and Dean, kid!Sam, kids being kids, kind of case fic, lots of clues, mythological creatures, okay so maybe a bit more than a little horror, pre-Season One, the treehouse is symbolic for something but idk what yet, tw, wee bit of horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-09-01 14:24:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 29,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16766887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfortunatelyObsessed/pseuds/UnfortunatelyObsessed
Summary: “Fuck off,” Dean mumbled, shoving Sam's face away. “I can feel you breathing.”“I don't breathe, Dean.”“Eleven and you still haven't found a good sense of humor.”“Fifteen and you still haven't found a good comeback.”ORThe One Where The Darkness Is Behind You





	1. In Which the Scene is Set

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy folks!  
> So, I'm trying something new with this fic. It's kind of... well, a mystery! I've added clues throughout the work, and it's up to you guys to piece them all together before I reveal the truth! If you wanna leave your guesses in the comments, feel free! I'll try and update this at LEAST once a week!

“Fuck off,” Dean mumbled, shoving Sam's face away. “I can feel you breathing.”

“I don't breathe, Dean.”

“Eleven and you still haven't found a good sense of humor.”

“Fifteen and you still haven't found a good comeback.”

Dean smiled to himself and yawned. “Ain't ya 'sposed to be keepin’ lookout?”

“Well, you sure as hell can't.”

Dean rolled his eyes and reached out to tossle Sammy's hair. “Anyone nearby?”

“Three whole squadrons with bows and arrows, a few tanks, and a shit load of attack dogs.”

Dean flipped off Sam's general direction. “Good morning to you, too, sunshine.”

Sam laughed softly. “No sunshine, either.”

“Hmm, thought my face felt a bit cold.”

“Hey! Mine, too!”

Dean stood up and stretched, taking a deep breath. “Where to today?”

Dean waited patiently as Sam shuffled around with the map. “Well, I think we're still a four days’ walk from Bobby's. We should probably hit some bars, get groceries, and split. Looks like there's a river a little ways north.”

“So on the way, then. We could stop and wash some grime off. Maybe we can find a knife so we can cut my damn hair.”

“I like your hair long!”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, you would. It's getting on my nerves. And I'm still pissed at that police officer for taking our weapons.”

Sam shouldered Dean. “Lucky you've got a zombie to protect ya, huh?”

“Watch it.”

“You're just a little blind naked mole rat who- hey!” Sam exclaimed, rubbing his shoulder where Dean had punched it.

“When I get my eyes back and _you_ get your body back, we are gonna spar until the cows come home.”

“We don't have any cows.”

“Then we'll _get_ some cows.” Dean slung on his backpack and tied one end of a rope to his belt. “Lead the way, cowboy.”

\---

Sam rolled his eyes and held onto his end of the rope, leading Dean and trying to bite back his quip about _Dean_ being a cow.

They started the trek, and Sam held his head high. He missed Bobby. They both did. After what had happened… Well, suffice it to say that a familiar face would be nice to see.

At least, it would be for Sam.

He glanced back at Dean and grimaced. His hair was filthy, and it hung down to the tops of his ears in thick strands. He was covered in bruises and poorly-crafted bandages. But Sam doubted anyone else would notice those things.

What stood out were his eyes.

Pure white. No pupil, no iris. Not even blood veins. They were useless ping pong balls rolling around in his head, basically.

Sam gritted his teeth and turned back to the path.

“Hey jerkface,” Sam tossed back over his shoulder. “Let's just beeline for that river.”

“I thought we were gonna hustle some people!”

“No one's gonna bet you, man. You look like a hobo.”

“Yeah? Well… I'm sure you do, too.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I _look_ like a scruffy little kid who drowned a little.”

“Just a little.”

“I got better.”

Dean snorted. “Alright. Sure. Let's go get a nature bath under our belts.”

“Can you get one _above_ your belt, too? I can smell you from here.”

“Says the shambling mound of decaying flesh.”

Sam grinned and rolled his eyes. “First off, not decaying. Second, you should really start writing books, man. Dime horror novels or something.”

“Dime novels don't exist anymore, Sammy. Just another old pipe dream of Dad's.”

“I think you're using that term wrong. It's more of like, a nostalgic dream.”

Dean snapped his fingers. “Ey! There's the word!”

They were quiet for a long while before Dean finally asked, “So you're still doing okay?”

Sam nodded, then realized Dean couldn't see him. “Yeah, I'm doing fine. Everything just feels kinda… dull, I guess? If that makes sense?”

“Dull how?”

“Like. Like, imagine your emotions were trapped behind glass, ya know? You can see 'em and shit but they just… feel so far away. Sometimes I feel like I'm piloting someone else's body. Or maybe someone else is piloting mine. I dunno.”

“To be fair, you are kinda piloting a disconnected body.”

“Yeah, I know. I just go on auto-pilot sometimes, I guess. But I'm okay. This isn't permanent.” Sam cleared his throat, forcing himself to take in the dying leaves around him, remind himself he's real. “What about you? Are you doin’ okay?”

Dean sighed softly. “The same amount of okay as you, I guess. I like. Hallucinate, I think. See stuff that ain't there. And I _know_ it ain't there 'cause I can't see anything, let alone dark creepy shapes.”

“Cave blindness.”

“Yeah. But I still dream in color. And it throws me off when I wake up.”

“Two fucked up kids, that's us.”

Dean laughed quietly. “Always have been.”

“Always will be.”

\---

Dean grumbled as he sat in the cold water, tiny waves lapping against his tummy.

“Hold still,” Sam mumbled.

“It's just a sharp piece of aluminum!”

“That's not true.” Sam pulled on Dean's hair gently. “It's a can I hammered with a rock.”

“It's gonna fuck up my hair.”

“We don't have many options here.”

Dean sighed. “Fine. Fine. Just cut the damn stuff already.”

Sam got to work, tugging hard on sections of hair and sawing at them with the metal. “I wish my hair could grow like this.”

Dean frowned. “We'll get there, bud.”

Sam finished and cringed at his handiwork. “This is the worst haircut in the history of haircuts.”

Dean plopped back into the water, grunting when his head hit some rocks.

“Be careful, you idiot!” Sam admonished, helping Dean rinse out his hair.

“Idjit,” Dean corrected, leaning up and shaking his hair out. “Well. I can't feel hair on my ears anymore so I consider this a win.”

Dean turned his head towards Sam, and Sam's eyes widened. “Dude. No offense, but you look like a nightmare creature.”

Dean frowned. “Thought I looked like an oracle?”

“Yeah, with your long hair! This patchy mess makes you look like you're about to consume someone's soul.”

Dean widened his eyes comically.

Sam covered his mouth with his hand, giggling. “Dude _stop.”_

Dean bared his teeth, arms outstretched. “I want to consume the souls of mortal children!” he yelled out in a weird accent. “Come to me so I may feast!”

There was a girly scream from somewhere downstream, and Sam turned just in time to see two kids scampering away.

There was a beat, then both brothers burst out laughing. Sam wiped tears from his eyes and looked out again.

“Oh hey. Oh shit. They left food.”

Dean grinned. “Then let’s grab it and go! Tired of being here.”

Sam shrugged, pulling Dean up. “I wouldn’t mind staying.”

“What, at a  _ river? _ We can’t stay here, Sammy. C’mon.”

\---

Sam and Dean walked all day, letting the warm fall breeze dry them and their clothes. They exchanged general remarks back and forth, but periods of time would pass where neither said anything. It was during one of these periods when Dean called out, “Hey, Sammy.”

“Hm?” Sam stepped over a log and waited for Dean to catch up, placing a hand on his chest and dragging Dean's hand down to the log.

Dean hopped over it, pausing beside Sam. “Could you describe the way stuff looks to me?”

Sam grinned. “Only if you start telling me a story after.”

“Deal.”

Sam began walking again, checking to make sure they were still going the right direction. “It's fall.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“The leaves are all orange and red, and just like… occasionally a tree will stick out that's all yellow. The sky is a sorta calm blue, and there are these big clouds that are all fluffy and pink. There are some birch trees, and they all look hella creepy.”

“Oh, the eyes thing?”

“Yeah. The eyes thing.”

Dean smiled to himself. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and there are two idiots walking through all these colors and stomping the dead leaves, too.”

Dean laughed aloud, almost tripping over a rock. “Oh man. Oh fuck. Okay. You get a story.”

“I do. Start yappin’.”

“All by myself? C'mon. Give me some characters, a setting, _something.”_

“Batman and Snow White in Victorian England.”

Dean made an indignant noise. “C'mon!”

“In _space.”_

Dean sighed, smiling softly. “You're such a bitch. Damn, alright. Gimme a minute.”

“Jerk.”

Sam watched the shadows on the trees begin to grow. They only had a few more hours of daylight. Not that he needed to sleep, but Dean sure as hell did.

Sam glanced back at him again and briefly wondered what Bobby was going to say about them. Hell, Bobby probably thought they were dead. They left the scene before anyone showed up, right after-

“Playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne stared at the glass coffin before him…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This lovely art is brought to you by @wintertundra-art on Tumblr! Go give them some love!!!


	2. In Which the Author Skips Over Three Days of Travel

Dean jumped when he felt Sam's hand slide into his.

“What're ya doin’,” Dean deadpanned.

“Trying to be brave.”

Dean frowned and huffed. “It's just Bobby.”

“You're scared, too.”

Dean bit his bottom lip and held Sam's hand just a bit tighter. “I am _not,”_ Dean lied.

He wanted to close his eyes and open them and everything be okay. He was scared that Bobby would yell at them. He was scared that Bobby wouldn't love them anymore.

“It's just Bobby,” Dean repeated firmly.

“Who should go in first?” Sam whispered.

Dean worried his bottom lip. “Zombie or oracle? Which is better?”

“I guess I've gotta lead you, anyway.”

Dean shook his head, taking a deep breath and letting go of Sam's hand. “No. I'm older. I'll go.”

“You can't even see!”

“Pfft. It's Bobby's. I know this place like the back of my hand.” Dean paused. “Ya know. If ya lead me to the door, that is.”

Sam linked his arm through Dean's, and they walked through the yard together.

“What if he turns us away?” Sam whispered.

“Don't think like that,” Dean whispered back.

“Step,” Sam murmured, helping Dean onto the porch.

Sam's hand took his again, leading it to rest against the wooden door.

\---

Sam watched as Dean took a steadying breath and knocked a few times on the door.

They waited as there was movement inside that paused, listening.

Dean knocked again.

“Who is it?” a gruff voice yelled out from inside.

“Us,” Dean croaked.

Frantic movement, and the door swung open, Dean immediately bowing his head.

“Sam! Dean! I thought-” Bobby trailed off as his eyes landed on Sam. “What did you two do?!”

Dean raised his eyes to Bobby, and Bobby turned pale.

“What… what did you two _do?”_

\---

Two warm mugs were thrust into Sam and Dean's hands.

“Drink up,” Bobby told them, sitting down across the table.

Sam stared at his hot chocolate before raising his watery eyes, lip bobbing. “Are-... Are you mad at us?” he squeaked.

Dean's hands gripped his mug tighter.

Bobby sighed. “No, I ain't mad at you boys. I just wanna know what _happened._ Last I heard of y'all, you were missing.”

Dean took a tentative sip of his drink before dutifully saying, “Thank you.”

Bobby scrubbed a hand across his beard. “You boys are probably hungry, aren't ya? When's the last time y'all ate?”

Dean hunched his shoulders. “We found a picnic basket three days ago. We rationed it off.”

“Would you two like some pie until I can whip up somethin’ more substantial?”

Dean's head whipped up to look in Bobby's general direction, his white eyes brimming up with black tears. “Y-yes sir.”

Bobby's face was a mixture of sadness and desperation. “Sam, would you be a doll and go get the pie so I can talk with Dean alone for a minute?”

Sam looked at Dean in worry. “Yeah. Please do.”

Bobby waited until Sam left the room before getting up and wrapping Dean in his arms. “Hey now, hey. It's okay. I've got ya now.”

\---

Sam killed time in the kitchen.

He ate a few crackers as he slowly cut the pie into exactly even pieces, sitting them on plates. He washed a few dishes and watered the plants on the windowsill.

After he deemed enough time had passed, he did a balancing act with the plates and walked quietly back into the room.

Just in case.

Bobby was sitting where he had been, hand on Dean's shoulder. He glanced up when Sam entered and gave him a little nod.

“Pie's here,” Bobby told Dean as Sam sat the plates down.

Dean snorted. “'Bout time. It's like you had to _make_ the pie or somethin’.”

Sam figured he didn't realize his cheeks were stained grey.

Sam gave Dean's short hair a tug and put a fork in his hand. “Eat up, jerk.”

Dean's fingers swept the table in front of him until they hit plate. “Bitch,” he mumbled back.

\---

Bobby watched the two of them, sitting in front of the TV and eating supper. Sam was whispering to Dean what was happening, and Dean was nodding along.

Bobby sighed and walked into his study, picking up the phone.

“What do you want,” the voice from the other end said.

“Nice to hear you, too, Jody.”

“You better not have gotten yourself into trouble again, Singer.”

“That ain't it. I was just calling to see… how would I go about adoptin’ two boys?”

“Did… Did you _kidnap_ someone?!”

“Well that's _real_ sweet. No, ya idjit! John's boys.”

“Your friend that…?”

“Yeah. Him.”

“I thought they were dead?”

“'Parently not. I don't know what went down but… they're both all sorts of messed up. I don't want the state gettin’ 'em.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Jody. I owe ya one.”

“You owe me _ten_ , Singer. Now go to sleep.”

“Say hi to the Mister for me.”

“Not a chance,” she said, smile visible through the phone.

\---

“What are they dressed up as?” Dean whispered to Sam.

“Chefs,” Sam whispered back, eyes glued to the newest episode of Scooby-Doo.

“Is the monster falling for it?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “What do _you_ think?”

It went to commercial and Bobby cleared his throat. Sam muted the TV and Dean made a whining noise.

“Just gonna let you boys know that you're free to stay here as long as ya like.”

Dean sat up a bit straighter. “As… As long as we're not a burden to you, sir.”

“Drop the 'sir’ shit. I ain't John. And I want you two here.”

Something in Bobby's voice made Sam's hand scramble for Dean's. “Like… like for a few weeks?” Sam asked, hope in his voice.

Bobby scratched the back of his own neck. “Longer.”

Dean's hand was holding Sam's tight. “A few… months?”

Bobby couldn't help the small smile at the two kids in front of him. “Longer.”

Sam and Dean were both staring up at him, Sam's eyes wide and Dean's wider.

“Forever?” Sam whispered.

“As long as you boys can put up with an old grouch like me.”

Sam and Dean ran to Bobby hand in hand, hugging him tightly and thanking him profusely.

Bobby looked up to avoid the mist in his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Go get ready for bed. I haven't moved the shit in your bedrooms since the last time y'all were here.”

Dean looked up from where he was staining Bobby's blue plaid black. “Can we finish Scooby-Doo?”

Sam looked up, too, bottom lip jutting out, and Bobby realized just how much he loved these boys.

“Yeah. Sure. 'Course ya can.”


	3. In Which They Try to Fix the Boys

Dean breathed hard, trying to keep his mouth shut. It was harder to hear when he breathed through his mouth.

“Alright,” Sam wheezed. “Alright. Time out.”

Dean gasped in a deep breath through his mouth and laid down on the mats, chest heaving. He heard Sam’s feet approach, then felt the slight bump as he plopped down beside him.

“You’re getting better,” Sam said between breaths.

“You walk loud,” Dean responded. “And I know you. This wouldn’t work against a monster.”

“You don’t know me _that_ well!”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You always do offense instead of defense. You favor your left hand and tend to aim for the gut. It’s not hard.”

“You’re right. Your belly _is_ pretty squishy.”

“What?”

“You said it’s not hard. I’m agreeing with you.”

Dean groaned and draped his arm across his own face. “Great. Are you at that age where you get all snarky and sarcastic?”

“I’m sure it’s just a phase, O wisened older brother.”

Dean’s lips twitched up. “Fuck off.”

“What? Here and now?”

Dean snorted and pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Gross. C’mon, let’s go get some water.”

\---

Dean huffed for the umpteenth time that hour, tapping a pen against the table impatiently.

“Quit,” Sam mumbled. “Trying to research.”

“I wanna help!” Dean whined, setting down the pen.

Bobby sighed and booted up the desktop computer, waiting for the dial-up internet to connect. “C’mere, Dean,” he said, holding out a hand. Dean scooted his chair back and took a few steps towards his voice, and Bobby caught hold and led him to the computer. “Gimme a few minutes and I can set this up to read stuff out loud. Can ya type without seeing the keyboard?”

Dean scoffed, “I _was_ in school for a little while, ya know.”

“So… That’s a yes?”

“That’s a yes.”

“Wait here, then.” Bobby went to his cabinets and rifled through them until he found what he was looking for.

Dean jumped when a pair of bulky headphones were put on his ears.

“Alright,” Bobby told him, a little loudly. “You’re all set up.”

“Thanks,” Dean yelled back, beginning to type.

Bobby sat back down with Sam and their large pile of books. “You find anything?”

Sam made some non-committal sound.

“Sam.”

Sam looked blearily up at Bobby. “Huh?”

“Do you need to take a nap or something?”

Sam frowned and looked down at his hands.

“You okay, kid?”

Sam flexed his hands a few times. “Are these mine?” he finally asked.

Bobby laid his own large hands over Sam’s smaller ones. “Yeah. They’re yours.”

“Am I real?”

Bobby furrowed his brow. “Sam?”

“I don’t feel real.”

“Sam-”

“Like I’m just watching. I’m not in control.”

“Sam, look at me. You’re in control.”

Sam frowned again and looked down at his open book. “I don’t know what I just read.”

“It’s okay.”

He blinked a few times and looked around. “I don’t remember coming down here.”

Bobby squeezed Sam’s hand. “It’s okay,” he repeated.

Sam suddenly gripped Bobby’s hand tight, eyes wide and wild as they looked up at him. “Bobby, I’m not really here. I’m just… I’m possessing my own corpse,” Sam whispered frantically.

“We… all… are…”

“No! No, I mean, I just-” Sam looked over to Dean, who was ‘staring’ up at the ceiling, occasionally clicking a button on the keyboard. “I died, Bobby. But I’m still here. Dean saved me.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean you died?”

Sam furrowed his brow. “I mean, I like… I stopped existing. I dunno how else to describe it. I closed my eyes and woke up a few years ago, when Dean and I were here, and Dad was off on a trip, and you had made us breakfast for supper and - do you remember that? That was… That was a great night.”

“Are you trying to tell me you went to _Heaven?”_

“I think so. But then I opened my eyes again and I was here. Back in my body but… it’s different. It feels like I’m watching everything from far away.”

Bobby ruffled his hair gently. “You probably just been through the wringer one too many times, son. You need a decent night’s sleep. I can only guess you two’ve been on the run ever since…”

“Yeah.”

There was silence, and Sam smirked.

“You want me to tell you what happened, don’t you?”

“I mean, it’s only natural to be curious, after what we found there. But I won’t ask. You two will tell me when you’re ready.”

Bobby let out a soft _oof_ as Sam hugged him tightly. “Thanks, Bobby,” he whispered.

“HEY,” Dean yelled out. “I THINK I FOUND SOMETHING.”

Bobby released Sam and walked over to Dean, taking off the headphones. “You can use your inside voice, son.”

Dean winced. “Sorry. Here. This. This is what Sammy is. I found it.”

“A _zombie?”_

Dean gave him a funny look. “Um. Yeah. Wait, did we not-?”

Sam walked over as well, shaking his head. “We didn’t.”

“Oh. Um, yeah. Sam’s a zombie. BUT,” Dean began, gesturing to the screen, “he’s not just _any_ zombie.”

Bobby looked at the screen. “A Haitian zombie? How did you even… This is _black_ magic! What _attacked_ you all that night?!”

Dean visibly flinched, and Bobby lowered his voice. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get upset.”

Dean hunched his shoulders.

Bobby tried again, “Dean. Did whatever that turned Sam into a zombie also get your eyes?”

“Yeah,” Dean squeaked.

“Dean,” Sam whispered. “Bobby can help.”

“Well it _was,”_ Dean defended himself, bottom lip jutting out.

Bobby looked back and forth between the two of them. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to,” Bobby said softly. “But it sure would help.”

Dean fidgeted. “We just need to find a way to un-zombify him. That's all. And I'm telling you, _this_ is the kind of zombie he is.”

“You're talkin’ about bringin’ back the dead, son.”

Dean paled. “He's not _dead!_ He's right here!”

Sam put his hands on Dean's arms. “I was dead for a little while there, Dean.”

Bobby scrubbed a hand over his beard. “An’ I don't suppose you two would tell me what killed you either, huh?”

Sam watched Dean's face carefully. “We…” Sam began, “could tell you that.”

“But it's not important,” Dean cut in, shaking off Sam's hands. “What's important is we have our MO, and now we can focus on reversing it.”

Bobby sighed. “Son, listen. If you're _reversing_ bringing someone back to life… you're… you're just killing them again.”

Dean grit his teeth. “Then we will _re-_ reanimate him!”

“We should fix your eyes first,” Sam cut in, easing the tension. “Then you could help us research better, right?”

Dean was silent, arms crossed.

“I just wanna help,” Bobby said.

Dean's shoulders slowly lowered. “I'm sorry,” he finally said. “It's been… just us for a while.”

“I know.”

“And people aren't nice.”

“I know.”

Dean's eyes were going grey. “And I'm not sure what to do here.”

“I know.”

Dean looked in Bobby's direction, and Bobby was slapped by the fierce reminder that Dean was just a _child._

They were both just children.

“What should I do?” Dean's voice was breaking, and Sam was wrapping his arms around him.

“You two should set up sleeping bags in my room tonight. I don't think any of us should sleep alone.”

Dean nodded and scooted off his chair, walking blindly towards the hallway. Sam started after him, but Bobby stopped him.

“Sam, I want you to listen to me, okay? Are you all here?”

“I… I am right now.”

“Good. Then hear me now: neither of you are responsible for each other, okay? That's my job now. You two get to just be kids if I have to kill every last monster to make it happen.”

“Yeah. That's what Dad said, too.”

Sam brushed past him to catch up with Dean.

\---

Bobby sighed and sent out a quick email to the Roadhouse. Maybe Ellen would know how to fix this.

\---

Dean jerked awake, reaching out for Sam.

“Sam? Sam!”

His hand met shoulder and he shook Sam slightly until he heard the soft, “Dean?”

Dean let out a breath. “You were having a nightmare.”

Dean held on as Sam slowly climbed over to him, sliding in beside him and snuggling up close. Dean ran a soothing hand through his hair until the shaking stopped.

“I was dreaming about Mom,” Sam whispered.

Dean leaned his head back and listened to the deep, even breaths of Bobby before deciding that they weren't being listened to.

“Hey. Hey, it's okay, Sammy. It's okay. I'm here.”

Sam hid his face in Dean's chest.

Dean pressed his mouth against Sam's hair and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I won't ever let her hurt you again,” Dean whispered.


	4. In Which the Boys Get a Visitor

Sam and Dean held each other's hands tightly, standing side-pressed-to-side.

Dean adjusted his sunglasses for the fourteenth time in the past thirteen minutes.

“Stop lookin’ so nervous,” Bobby told them, leading them around the small store.

“Really, Bobby,” Dean said. “I can just mend my own clothes. You don't have to-”

“Yeah, actually, I do. So shuddap and let me do this for you.”

Sam shouldered Dean playfully. “C'mon. What are you even complaining about? _I'm_ the one that's covered in makeup!”

“And I can't even see it to make fun of you!”

“You couldn't anyways. I look _great.”_

Bobby watched as Dean's guard slowly lowered.

“Yeah?” Dean turned his attention to Bobby. “Why do you know how to do makeup so good?”

Bobby held up a plaid shirt to Dean, mentally sizing him up. “I _was_ married at one point, ya know.”

Dean's eyebrows raised and Sam grinned.

“No! We didn't know!” Sam exclaimed happily. “What was she like?!”

Bobby threw the shirt into the cart and picked one out for Sam. “The best thing you could imagine and more.”

“So what happened?” Dean asked.

Bobby grimaced and threw some jeans in the buggy. “She died.”

“How'd she-... Oh. I get it.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow at Dean. “You do?”

“Yeah. You won't tell me until I tell you how _Sam_ died, right?”

“Is that really who you take me for?”

Dean was silent.

“She was possessed.”

The two's eyes widened. “Oh… I'm… I'm sorry.”

Bobby ruffled their hair. “Life’s a bitch. Now, what size shoes do y'all wear?”

\---

They were all sitting at home, trying to teach Dean chess, when there was a knock at the door.

“Bobby, it's me,” Jody called from behind the door.

“Aw, hell,” Bobby muttered. “I wasn't expectin’ her to get here so soon.”

Sam looked up at him. “Who?”

Dean quietly moved his chess pieces while Sam wasn't watching.

“The sheriff.”

Dean knocked over a few pieces.

“Hey!” Sam exclaimed, putting his pieces back. “What the hell, Dean?!”

Dean's eyes were wide. “You… turned us in?”

“Don't be foolish, son. She's a friend of mine. I just wanted to make sure you two were staying here _legally.”_

Dean furrowed his brow. “What do ya mean?”

Bobby, for his part, looked trapped. “Just… ya know, so someone don’t come and try and take you away from me.”

“Wait,” Sam blurted out. “Are you trying to _adopt_ us?”

“Not unless you’re okay with it.”

“You’d be our dad?”

“You can still just call me Bobby, I mean- shit,” Bobby mumbled, looking anywhere but the two boys staring at him. “I’m basically your pops already when John ain’t around. And… well… he ain’t around.”

The boys were silent, mouths open, and Bobby cursed under his breath.

“Look. I don’t need a decision today or anytime soon. It’s just… somethin’ to think about.”

“Yes.”

Bobby stared at Dean in surprise. “What?”

“We… accept. With a few terms.”

Bobby snorted. “Alright. What are the terms?”

“We don’t gotta tell you what happened until we’re ready,” Dean said.

“Alright.”

“Oh!” Sam piped in. “And - and! And we get control of the TV when Scooby Doo is on.”

“Only the _new_ episodes. And you gotta watch something educational once a week, too.”

“Hey, these are _our_ terms! We’ll get to yours in a minute.”

Bobby grinned. “Okay. Any other terms?”

“We gotta eat together as a _family_ at least twice a week,” Dean added.

“Done.”

“And you gotta homeschool us,” Sam butted in, eyes bright and shining.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dean took a big breath, “And you gotta give up hunting.”

“Give up _hunting?”_

“Those are our terms.”

Bobby looked at the two kids in front of him, Sam shining with excitement and Dean shaking with nerves.

“I accept your terms.”

Jody knocked again and Dean stood up. “Okay, then. I’ll go let her in.”

“Hey! What about _my_ terms?”

Dean swung open the door and gave Jody a big grin. “Tell ‘em to the sheriff!”

Jody dropped the papers she was holding.

“Howdy, ma’am,” Dean said, gesturing inside.

Jody shook herself and picked up her papers, trying not to stare. “Hi there. Is Bobby here?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s in the living room.”

Bobby was sitting, looking for all the world like he was about to facepalm.

Jody smiled at him. “Hey there, Bobby! I brought those papers you were asking about. I pulled a few strings, so this should be easy.”

“Thank you,” Bobby grumbled, taking the papers. “Sorry about Dean. He forgets he can be scary sometimes.”

Dean merely flashed his teeth at them.

“So you’re Dean, huh? I guess that makes you,” she looked to Sam, “Sam.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She draped her coat across the back of the couch and took a seat. “I’ve been looking at your case for a bit. It’s a bit… odd, I must say. Is there anything you can tell me about it?”

Sam glanced at Bobby, who gave a little shake of his head.

“No, ma’am.”

Jody turned and glared at Bobby as if she had seen him. “How interesting. You know, everyone still thinks you two are dead.”

“Ma’am,” Dean piped up, “if you don’t mind, can we keep it that way?”

Jody raised her eyebrows at him. “Why? Is there someone out there looking for you?”

Sam looked at Dean before stating simply, “Our dad had a lot of enemies.”

Jody frowned. “I’ll keep this as quiet as possible.”

Dean held out his hand, head held high. “Thank you.”

Jody shook his hand. “You’re welcome, young sir. Just how old are you?”

“I’m fifteen. Sammy over here is eleven.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s _Sam._ ”

“Anyway,” Dean interrupted, “just before you got here, Bobby was about to lay down his terms.” Dean smiled sweetly in Bobby’s direction.

He couldn’t see Bobby’s glare.

“Terms?” Jody asked, glancing back at Bobby.

“Yeah! Ya know, his terms for adopting us.”

Jody grinned a little. “I see. You’re a trouble-maker, aren’t you, Dean?”

The smile slipped off Dean’s face. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Jody leaned back on the couch and raised an eyebrow at Bobby. “Well? What are those terms?”

Bobby couldn’t help a small chuckle that escaped him. “We already talked about watchin’ somethin’ educational at least once a week.”

Dean held up one finger, tallying. “Yep! But I’m pretty sure Scooby Doo counts as educational.”

“It doesn’t. You two also gotta help me make supper sometimes.”

“Can supper be _pie_ sometimes?”

“Only on bank holidays.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. Anything else?”

“Just one more. This is a big one, alright?”

“Okay…”

“No runnin’ away. You two can go wherever ya want, but just… let an old man know, okay? I already worry about ya too much as it is.”

“Hm.”

“Do we have a deal?”

Dean schooled his grin. “Allow me and my brother to discuss this matter privately for a moment,” he said, standing up and leading Sam to the other end of the room, where they exchanged excited whispers.

Jody watched them, smiling. “Are they always this-”

“Rambunctious?”

“I was going to say _creative.”_

Bobby shrugged. “They are when they’re not around their dad. Which, I guess isn’t a problem anymore.”

Jody looked back at Bobby worriedly. “That’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Like I said, I’ve been keeping tabs on this case ever since you told me about it. You were rather drunk, I might add.”

“Get on with it.”

“This case is… weird. And by weird, I mean _extremely_ strange. John’s body was never found.”

Bobby furrowed his brow. “I thought they found a body in the remains of that house.”

“It was more of a shack to begin with. Were they squatting ther- Just, nevermind. I don’t want to know. Bobby, it wasn’t a male body.”

“So, what? You’re tellin’ me there was a random woman’s body in the house?”

“That’s what it looks like.” Jody sighed. “These poor boys have been through so much. It’s no wonder they don’t want to open up. I mean, always on the road, a father with a jail record a mile long, and their _mom._ ” She looked at them pretending to discuss the terms. “I wonder if they even remember her. They were so young.”

“Dean does,” Bobby said, frowning. “Sam doesn’t. She died when he was just six months old.”

“House fire.”

“Yep.”

Dean and Sam walked back over, looking for all the world like small businessmen. “We have discussed the options.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We accept your terms.”


	5. In Which a Discovery is Made

It happened when they were climbing around the cars parked everywhere.

Sam was chasing Dean around, who was using his blindness to his advantage. As soon as Sam fell far enough behind, Dean moved slowly, listening for Sam’s footsteps, ducking behind cars he could no longer identify. He listened as Sam climbed up a stack of two cars to get a better vantage point, and promptly stopped breathing as he heard Sam hit the ground.

“Sam?” Dean called out.

There was no response.

“Sam!” Dean yelled, running towards him, slamming into another car and falling down.

He scrabbled around the ground until he felt the familiar wavy hair and breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh my gosh. Sam. Are you okay?”

Sam didn’t say anything.

“Sam?” Dean began to feel for a pulse, then cursed himself and began feeling around Sam’s head for a wound instead. Finding nothing, he ran his hands down his neck, across his chest, along his arm-

Oh.

O-oh.

Dean’s hands were shaking, and he couldn’t hear himself yelling, “DAD!”

His voice was hoarse. He picked Sam up and tried to remember which way the house was. This way? This way. Leaning against cars to keep from running into them.

“Dean?” a groggy voice said in his arms.

He let out an anguished breath and crashed down. “Sam? Are you okay?”

“I feel okay. Just got knocked around, I guess.”

“Do me a favor.”

“Alright?”

“Close your eyes.”

“Wha-”

“Close your eyes and don’t move.”

“O-...okay.”

Dean got up and began walking again.

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re crying on me.”

\---

Bobby almost fainted.

Almost.

“What _happened?”_ he hissed, taking Sam from Dean.

Sam furrowed his eyebrow, eyes still dutifully closed. “What’s wrong?”

Dean’s eyes were completely black, brimming over and staining his face. “Please fix him. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

“Sam. Sam, listen to my voice. What can you feel?”

“Um, everyone is freaking me out. I feel fine. What's going on?”

Bobby sat Sam down on a table and cursed. “Dean, stay here with him. I'll be right back.”

Sam felt Dean's hand tangle in his own. “Dean?” he said, opening his eyes.

Dean's cheeks were stained black. “Hey, it's okay. I'm here. Just keep your eyes closed.”

Sam blinked and looked away, down at himself.

“Dean.”

“I'm here.”

“ _Dean.”_

“I'm here, Sammy.”

“My arm-”

“Please keep your eyes closed,” Dean whispered.

“My arm is gone.”

Dean's free hand brushed against his cheek until it covered his eyes. “Shhhhh. No more looking, okay? It's gonna be okay.”

“I can't even feel it.”

“Don't think about it. Please don't think about it.”

Sam stared at the ceiling through the slits between Dean's fingers, terror slowly clawing its way up his throat. “Dean?”

“Sammy?”

“I'm gonna throw up.”

\---

By the time Bobby was back, Sam was curled around a waste basket and trembling.

“Sam- Sam. Listen to me. I think we can just sew it back on,” Bobby said levelly.

“Are you _crazy?!”_ Sam shouted, eyes dutifully closed. “It's a goddamned _arm!”_

“And you're a zombie.”

Sam slowly released his grip on the basket. “Okay,” he gritted out.

“Dean,” Bobby said sternly. “Go get some water.”

“Yes, sir,” Dean whispered, scrambling to be of some use.

“Sam, c'mere. I've… got… _it.”_

Sam walked over to Bobby and tried not to look at him holding his twitching, disembodied arm.

“Get on with it,” Sam said quietly.

\---

Sam flexed his fingers, altogether over his panic. “Woah. Neat!”

Bobby gave him an exasperated glance. “No! Not neat! Don't you go and start choppin’ off limbs just 'cause ya can!”

Sam smirked a little. “Well. Damn. Least I'll have a cool scar! Ya know. Eventually.”

Bobby wiped at a cut on Sam's forehead. “Have _any_ of your wounds healed?”

Sam shrugged. “No, but they don't bother me any. I don't think it's a zombie thing anyways.”

“And why wouldn't it be?”

“Well, Dean's cuts from the fire night took _months_ to heal. Even his bruises!”

Bobby looked over at where Dean was trying to be as small as possible. “Dean? Why didn't you tell me that?”

Dean just hunched in on himself more.

Sam shrugged. “He's always really cold, too. I think it's just a stress thing.”

“ ~~It sounds like a malnutrition thing.~~ Why don't we all get somethin’ to eat? Forget this whole ordeal ever happened.”

Sam glanced over at Dean, his face softening. “Yeah, sure. Just-...”

Sam hopped down and walked over to Dean. “Hey,” Sam said. “Hey. Gimme your hand.”

Dean slowly held out his hand, which Sam put over his newly-attached arm.

“Hey. Hey. See? I'm alright. It's okay.”

Dean grabbed his arm tightly. “Can you feel that?” he whispered.

“Yeah, I can.”

Dean pulled him in and hugged him tight. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

Sam snorted. “It's not your fault. I shouldn't have been climbing around on shit. I just fell and grabbed on to the frame, and pop!” Sam rested his forehead against Dean's. “A real Mr. Potato Head right here.”

Dean finally smiled a little.

“Now you gotta follow my lead, okay?”

“But _I'm_ the older brother…”

“Shush. Just follow me.” Sam leaned back and began chanting, “Pie! Pie! Pie! Pie!”

Dean grinned, joining in. “Pie! Pie! Pie! Pie!”

Before long, the two were marching around the house, yelling, “PIE! PIE! PIE! PIE!”

Bobby finally shushed them. “Alright! Fine! We can have pie!”

The boys cheered.


	6. In Which Dean Gains a Little Happiness

“Dean,” Bobby said one day, startling Dean from the game of Clue he was playing with Sam.

“Hm?”

“You and I are gonna go on a little road trip. Jody agreed to take Sam around the sheriff station for a while. That sound okay to you boys?”

Sam looked in surprise at Bobby, then at Dean. They hadn’t been separated in… well. A good long while.

Dean pursed his lips and turned back to the board game. “That’s okay. Thanks, though. Sammy, how many spaces am I from the ballroom?”

Bobby crouched beside Dean. “Sorry, Dean. That was more of a requirement than a suggestion.”

Sam pushed Dean gently. “C’mon. It’ll be fun! You know I love real crime.”

Dean sighed, head hanging low. “Yeah, okay. Fine. But only because you’re such a nerd.”

\---

The moment Sam left the truck and entered the station, Dean got very fidgety.

“Where are we going?” Dean asked, sitting on his hands.

“I’m takin’ ya to meet somebody,” Bobby responded.

“Somebody who?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“So basically, if you told me I’d kick up a fight about it.”

“Basically.”

Dean sighed and leaned back in his seat.

“We’re almost there, anyway.”

Dean raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Bobby pulled into a parking spot and got out, walking around to open the door for Dean. “We’ll be here a few hours, okay? I promise you’re safe with me.”

“I know!” Dean growled, then cleared his throat and repeated softer, “I know.”

From farther away, a voice called out, “Bobby Singer!”

Dean hesitated a moment, then reached out and grabbed hold of Bobby’s sleeve, letting him lead.

“Daisy Mae!” Bobby exclaimed, going in for a hug. “How nice to see ya again. How’s Dale?”

“Oh, he’s doing good. Same as always, workin’ in that damn mine.” She took a breath and said, “And this must be Dean. Hiya, Dean!”

“Hello, ma’am.”

“Elrod’s still in the car. Hold on. I’ll get ‘im!”

Dean listened to her footsteps retreat before turning to Bobby. “Um.”

“Playdate.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

“I’m helping you get some ass?”

“ _No!_ For Christ’s sake, son, she’s _married._ It’s a playdate for _you.”_

“I’m fifteen!”

“Dean,” Bobby began, letting out a deep breath, “I’m not an idjit. I’ve seen how down in the mouth you keep gettin’ about not bein’ able to take care of Sam.”

Dean glared. “It’s my _job_ and I can’t do it because of that stupid-” He cut himself off with a huff.

“It ain’t your job, and I’d’ve liked to punch John in the jaw for makin’ you think that. But I can’t, so I just gotta do the next best thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“Show ya you’re not worthless.”

Dean froze, staring up at Bobby.

Footsteps approached again, two pairs. A guy voice cleared its throat.

“Um, howdy. I’m Elrod.”

Bobby shouldered Dean, who jumped and said, “Oh. Um… howdy?”

“You’re… Dean, right?”

“Oh! Sorry, yeah. I’m Dean.”

Daisy Mae clapped her hands. “Wonderful! Why don’t you two go sit around and chat for a while while Bobby and me do the same!” She linked her arm through Bobby’s, leading him over to a picnic table. “I have _such news_ on Gracie!”

Dean and Elrod stood around awkwardly. “So,” Elrod said, breaking the silence.

“I honestly have no idea why I’m here, man. I’m sorry.”

“Oh! Well, shit. Did they not tell ya?”

“...Tell me what?”

Dean felt Elrod’s arm sling around his shoulders. “Hoo doggie. I’m as blind as you are!”

Dean’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “What, really?”

“Yeah! I - well, fuck. Let’s just go sit somewhere and swap yarns.”

Elrod led Dean around like he had the place memorized. They sat at a picnic table far enough away to not be overheard by the gossipping parents guardians.

“So,” Elrod began, “Mama told me you weren’t always blind?”

“Um, yeah. There was a…” fuck Dean hadn’t really thought through a cover story “small disaster at my old house. Don’t really like to think about it.”

“That’s alright! I used to be able to see shit, too! I worked down in the mines with my papa. Had a worker’s permit so it was okay. I was fourteen. They don’t really care much for those laws ‘round these parts. Anyways, like I was sayin’, I worked down there. One day there was a small cave-in. No one was killed, thank ya Jesus, but I got conked by a big rock. Lights have been out ever since.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah. See, there’s somethin’ they teach ya when ya start workin’ down in the bowels of the earth. They tell ya to not worry so much about the stuff ya see, ‘cause your brain comes up with all sorts a shit and ain’t a lick of it real.”

“Cave blindness.”

“Yeah! You already know ‘bout it?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, my family and I used to” hunt “camp a lot, and we’d explore caves. For… fun.”

“So you done figured out that you can’t trust what your brain says you can see now.”

“Yeah.” Dean frowned. “I keep seeing my mom's face.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Really, really bad.”

“Well, hey. Don't worry 'bout it. I always like to make it a sorta game. Like cloud-watchin’, when the images ain't makin’ sense.”

Dean smiled a little. “That… that's a good idea, actually.”

Elrod laughed loudly. “What? You think my mouth lines up with my brain?”

“You do have a really thick accent, man.”

“Ain’t from around here. Mama told me you might wanna know I'm a fireman now.”

“What? How? Wait, how old are you?”

“I'm eighteen. I obviously can't drive the truck, but it don't take eyes to help a man hold a hose.”

“Oh…”

“I've saved a lot of people, Dean. And I didn't need eyes to do it. Don't go feelin’ sorry for yerself or makin’ up excuses. Life ain't fair to nobody. We got dealt a shit hand, but life ain't about winnin’ the pot. It's about callin’ the blind. And yeah, that's a pun.”

Dean was stunned silent.

“What'd ya wanna be when ya grow up, Dean?”

“I… never really thought about it. I was always told I had to take over the family business.”

“You ain't _gotta_ do nothing’, Dean. What do you _wanna_ do?”

Dean blinked, taken a bit aback. “I… always kinda wanted to be a firefighter, actually.”

A noise like a bell rang out, and Elrod said, “Hold that thought.” He was quiet a moment before he said, “I'm bein’ paged to the fire station. Must be a fire somewheres. Wanna tag along?”

Dean perked up immediately. “Hell yeah!”

\---

Bobby gave his blessing and Dean and Elrod were off, Daisy Mae dropping them off at the station.

“Now y'all stay safe!” she called out.

Elrod linked his arm through Dean's and led him into the station.

“My gear is this a way. Just follow me.”

“Don't have much of a choice here.”

Elrod grinned, not that either saw it. “Right ya are. Hey, maybe this'll help get your feet under ya.”

Dean couldn't help how absolutely excited he was. “You mean I get to _help?”_

“Honestly, if you want, yeah. We need a few extra hands on deck. Hell, hold on. Harold!” Elrod yelled.

“Elrod!” came the response.

“Get this kid here the paperwork shit! And make it snappy! We’re on call!”

Dean heard Harold laugh from somewhere above him. “Dude. Is that like, your clone? Holy shit, you two look alike.” Dean looked to the direction of the voice. “Oh! Well, hell. Nevermind. Your eyes are different.” There was a sound like fluttering, and the voice was beside them. “You'd make a right scary Halloween monster. C'mon, kiddo. Let's go get your badass self some paperwork.”

Elrod passed Dean off to Harold, who led him deeper into the station.

“So, are you blind, too?” Harold asked.

“You get three guesses,” Dean quipped back, grinning.

Harold laughed. “Easy there, tiger. Are you wanting to volunteer here?”

Dean's eyes almost twinkled. “ _Can I?!?!”_

“Well, sure! Wait. How old are you?”

Dean briefly considered lying. “Fifteen.”

Harold whistled. “That's actually perfect. We can't accept volunteers unless they're sixteen, but this would give you plenty of time to get the training under your belt.”

Dean was bouncing on his toes as Harold rummaged around for the papers. “Ay! Here they are! We're gonna need…. Three. Three signatures from you.”

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen, smiling wide. “Just put my pen where you want them!”

\---

The sirens were _so loud_ and _so cool_ and Dean was grinning like a madman the whole time. He had on a helmet that was just a bit too big for him, riding shotgun.

Elrod was leaning against the frame not too far away. “Now, today you're just gonna help me and George hold the hose, okay? It's real heavy and requires at _least_ two men.”

Dean was bouncing in his seat. “Okay!”

“And if we need ya worse somewhere else, you okay with that?”

Dean nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely!”

Elrod laughed. “You sound excited.”

“I've _always_ wanted to do this! I just never thought I actually _would!”_

Harold glanced over from where he was driving. “What made you wanna be a firefighter? Did one of us come full uniform to your school or something?”

Dean shook his head. “No. It's uh, kinda a sad story, actually. My house burned down when I was four. It started in my baby brother's nursery, and I carried him out. It uh… It killed my mom. I dunno. Ever since then, I've wanted to be that person. The one that makes sure all the moms get out.”

“Aw, hell, kid,” Harold muttered. “That makes this a huge day, actually.”

Elrod squeezed Dean's shoulder. “You're gonna do great, kid.” Elrod paused. “You okay?”

Dean turned to him, smiling sadly. “Yeah. It's just the uh… the cave blindness.”

\---

The smell was the first thing that Dean took in. A very familiar, very old smell. Like smoke and carbon.

He held onto the back of Elrod's jacket, following him until a hose was thrust into his hands. The thing was _huge_ , and Dean couldn't help the small, badass smirk on his lips.

He could literally _feel_ when the water turned on.

They weren't kidding about it being heavy, either. Dean stood there with Elrod and George while Harold ran inside, searching for the inhabitants.

“You're doing great, kid!” George yelled over the sound of the flames.

They stood there for what felt like seconds but was probably closer to minutes, heat crawling under their clothes.

Dean felt a shift in the air when George muttered, “Something's not right.”

From near the house came an unmistakable, desperate, “Marco!”

Elrod cursed under his breath.

“What happened?” Dean asked, eyes wide.

George shook his head. “That's our signal if a fireman needs help. We Marco-Polo to each other.” He mumbled something, then continued, “I can't see him through the smoke. He may be outside the house already.”

“What are we gonna do?”

Elrod glanced back. “We usually have Raul here as a runner. George can't go 'cause you and I can't hold this here hose on our own.”

Dean stood on his tiptoes for a second and dropped back down. “Send me.”

“What? There is no way in _hell-”_

“I promise I won't go inside the house, but if he's outside, I could help.”

Elrod was quiet, and then came another, “MARCO!”

Elrod cursed and said, “George! Make the call!”

George gritted out, “Send the kid.”

Dean let go of the hose and immediately yelled out, “POLO!”

He waited for the response, then took off running.

The heat got worse and the smell got unbearable. Dean pulled his shirt up over his mouth, slowing his pace so he didn't trip and fall.

“MARCO!”

Fuck, he was close! Dean took off in that direction until he heard a “Stop!”

Dean halted, uncovering his mouth. “I'm here to help.”

“Come here and give me a hand. I can't carry both of them.”

\---

Emerging from the smoke, baby in his arms, felt a lot like winning a war.

George yelled out, “Ahoy!” and Elrod grinned and let out a loud “Whoop!”

Dean turned to them both, smiling. “Ahoy?”

“It means you made it out alive. Keeps Elrod in the know.” George let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. “Fire's almost out, kid. You saved a life today.”

Harold laid the woman on a stretcher from the newly-arrived ambulance. “Nah. He saved two at least.”

The paramedics took the baby from Dean. “Really?” Dean asked.

Harold took off Dean's hat and ruffled his hair. “Really.”

“DEAN!” came a familiar voice.

Dean turned around just in time to be tackled by Sam.

“THAT WAS SO AMAZING!!!”

Dean laughed, messing up Sam's hair. “Glad you think so.”

From behind them came two firefighters’ awkward coughs.

“Jody!” Harold exclaimed worriedly.

“Don't you ‘Jody’ me! I respond to a 911 call just to see you putting _blind children_ on the battlefield?!”

Dean turned to her. “I signed the papers.”

“Yeah,” Harold agreed. “He signed the papers.”

Elrod raised an eyebrow at her. “You got somethin’ against blind people, Miss Sheriff?”

“Don't you even _try_ that shit, Elrod! You're lucky I don't arrest you all!”

Harold shrugged. “I mean, he's in the volunteer firefighter program. Under training. What can you even do?”

Jody let out a string of curses and stalked off.

Sam giggled a little. “We had a fun day.”

Dean grinned. “Sure sounds like it!”

“But you're a volunteer firefighter?! Dude! That's so cool!”

“Not yet! But I will be soon! Sammy, you shoulda been there, it was _so cool!”_

“Tell me all about it over supper and Scooby Doo, okay? Bobby just got here!”

Dean grinned. “Okay!” He turned to Harold. “Is the fire out?”

“Yessiree, it is. You're free to go, cadet.”

“Cadet?”

“Well, after all of that, I sure can't call you kid anymore.”

Elrod yelled out, “See ya 'round, cadet!”

George laughed. “Sounds like you've already got a nickname, cadet. Come by anytime. Ah, Mr. Singer. Dean is remarkable.”

“What exactly…?” came Bobby's voice.

Dean turned to him, bouncing on his feet. “You shoulda seen me! I saved two people today! And I get to be a volunteer firefighter!”

“A firefighter?”

“Yeah! It's gonna be so awesome, Dad!”


	7. In Which the Author Says Things Get Better but She's Actually Lying

Sam and Dean sat in front of the TV again. Scooby Doo reruns played on. Everything was the same.

Except, kinda, it wasn't.

Because Dean was smiling, and explaining plot points to Sammy, and using the commercial breaks to talk excitedly with him about their afternoons.

In short, Dean felt like he was worth something  ~~ again ~~ for once.

“Hey Sam, what was the name of the estate guy again?” Dean asked, motioning to the TV.

Sam mumbled something unintelligible.

“Sam.”

No response.

Dean sighed and turned the TV off. It took Sam a good three minutes to notice.

“Dean?” Sam asked softly.

“You're not watching it, are you?”

“Yeah I am!”

“Sam.”

“...not really.”

Dean almost just let it go, resigned himself to the fact that he couldn't do anything. But he felt where some hair had been singed off his arms, and he sat up straighter. “C'mon, man. Talk to me.”

“I just…” Sam trailed off.

“Hey. Listen to me. It's okay. You're here. You're real. You're in control.”

“Okay…”

Dean pursed his lips in thought. “Would a story help?”

“Maybe…”

“Then gimme a base, Sammy boy!”

“Um… gay dinosaurs in space?”

“What is it with you and space?”

Sam shrugged. “Space is cool.”

Dean scooted closer to him, shoulder to shoulder. “Fine. You dork. Rex looked longingly at Ptero…”

\---

Sam had gone to bed a little while ago, leaving Dean pretending to sleep on the couch while Bobby flipped pages.

Dean was biting his tongue, trying to work up the courage to talk, when Bobby sighed and said, “I know you ain’t asleep, son. Out with it.”

“Is it… Is it okay if I become a firefighter?”

Dean heard Bobby shut a book heavily. “As long as you’re safe,” Bobby said slowly, choosing his words carefully.

Dean nodded. “Thank you.”

Bobby ran a hand over his stubble before saying, “Can I ask you something?”

“Is it about…?”

“It is.”

Dean propped up on the couch, resting his chin on the back of it, angled towards Bobby. “You can ask. I can’t promise an answer.”

Bobby nodded to himself and said, “Jody was tellin’ me a bit about your case. It… seems like there’s an unaccounted-for body in the mix.”

Dean was silent.

“You ain’t gotta tell me who it is. Just tell me if I need to send somebody to cover up your tracks.”

Dean didn’t move for a long time, and then he nodded his head.

“On a scale from 1 to 10, how bad would it be if we let them do all the autopsy shit?”

“Ten.”

Bobby sighed. “Alright. I’ll see if Rufus will take care of it for us.”

Dean waited a long time before saying anything, until the sounds of pages turning reached his ears once more. “Dad?” he whispered shakily.

Bobby was glad Dean couldn’t see him jump in surprise. “Yeah?”

“She was… dead, right? I mean… the body is… it’s not coming back?”

“Well, you two burned the house down, so I highly doubt it. Should I be worried about that?”

Dean’s face was blank, and then he nodded again.

“Okay, then. I’ll have Rufus send it through a woodchipper.”

Dean hid his face against the couch and mumbled something.

“Come again?”

Dean rested his cheek against the back of the couch, white eyes droopy with sleep. “Do you know what cave blindness is?”

Bobby slowly shut his book again. “Well, sure.”

“I have that. Like, all the time.”

“What do you see?” Bobby asked over Dean’s yawn.

His eyes drifted closed, and he muttered, “I see her.”

\---

Bobby carried Dean up to his room, tucking him in. They had moved Sam’s bed in here, too, the first night the boys agreed to sleep somewhere other than Bobby’s room.

He kinda missed their incessant snoring.

He walked down the stairs quietly, avoiding the spots he knew creaked under his weight. He was tired. Emphasis on the  _ was.  _ Now all he could see was the terror that had etched its way across Dean’s face as he asked if the corpse was coming back.

He poured himself a shot and grabbed the phone off the wall.

After a few punches and a few rings, a man picked up on the other side.

“Heyy, Bobby! Long time no see, huh? How ya doing?”

“Hey, Rufus. I’m doing… better, I suppose. Adopted myself two kids.”

“No kidding? Bobby Singer, a family man. Nah, I’m glad you got some company finally.”

“Honestly? Me, too. How’s the missus?”

“Oh, she’s doing fine. Just went to bed, got a rhubarb pie sitting on the windowsill. And, get this, she told me I couldn’t have any!” Rufus laughed loudly. “Ah, man. Anyway. What’s got you callin’ me up, Bobby?”

“I’m callin’ in a favor, if ya don’t mind.”

“Got a monster that needs killin’? ‘Cause you know I’ve got your ba-”

“Not quite. At least, kinda but… Damn, it’s complicated. You heard about the Winchester case, right?”   


“Every hunter’s heard about the Winchester case. A whole hunter clan, wiped out at once. God rest their souls.”

“You gonna keep a secret?”

“You know I will, Bobby.”

“The two boys are alive.”

There was a sharp intake of breath. “No shit? Wait, are those the two kids you adopted?”

“They are. And there’s somethin’ that’s been plaguin’ their nightmares. In the house, a body was found. A woman’s. I need it woodchipped and scattered.”

Rufus low-whistled. “Can I ask what it was?”

“You can, but I don’t know. All I know is it’s got ‘em both restless and scared.”

“Alright. I can handle it. Consider it done.”

“Thanks, Rufus. And if there’s ever anything I can do for you-”

“You can tell my wife to let me eat this damn pie, that’s what you can do.”

\---

Dean’s eyes opened long after Bobby had gone to bed.

He stared up at the ceiling, unseeing. He imagined stars. He imagined his dad. He imagined Sam. He imagined Sam bleeding a bit. He imagined his dad pulling him in for a hug.

He still saw her face.

It was dark and black. The mouth was twisted. It cracked as it moved into a toothy grin.

He imagined leaves falling, imagined Sam’s smile.

_ “What are you, child?”  _ her voice rasped in his mind, tongue snaking over torn lips, head moving, head stutter-stutteri-stuttering.

He imagined his dad was there to protect him instead, not gone, not - 

“Dean?” Sam whispered.

Dean found he couldn’t talk.

Sam quietly thudded over to Dean’s bed, sliding in beside him and draping an arm over his chest. “I had a nightmare,” Sam whispered.

Dean swallowed hard, willing his tongue to talk, his lips to move,  _ anything. _

“Are you having a nightmare too?” Sam whispered.

Dean couldn’t even make his arms move.

“Hey,” Sam said, leaning up. “It’s okay. We’ve got each other, right? You and me against the world.” He pressed a kiss to Dean’s cheek, and it was like the lead woman on Dean's chest was gone.

Dean immediately curled into Sam, enclosing him against the world, wrapping himself around him, shuddering. “Yeah,” Dean finally said, voice hoarse. “I was having a nightmare. Thank you.”

Sam nuzzled closer. “Hey. I mean, you help me from them all the time. About time I returned the favor!”

Dean took a few deep breaths, reminding himself where he was. “Bobby said they’d take care of Mom,” he whispered.

Sam frowned. “Good.”

“She can’t get you now, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam whispered.

“So go to sleep, alright? Growing boy needs his strength.”

“I’m not so sure I’m growing, ya know.”

Dean was glad he couldn’t hear the soft hum of the lamps. Sam didn’t need to see the black tears streaking down his face.

“Go to sleep,” Dean whispered again.

“Goodnight,” Sam whispered back.

Dean tangled a hand in Sam’s hair, the same length as when they had stopped at that river all those weeks ago.

“Goodnight,” Dean finally said, long after Sam began snoring.


	8. In Which the Author is Almost Sorry for the Pain in the Last Chapter

“Sam I've been doing research!” Dean announced, slamming the syrup bottle down in front of him.

“Thmnks,” Sam mumbled around a mouthful of pancake.

Bobby sat a plate in front of Dean. “Sam, don't talk with your mouth full.”

Sam made a big show of swallowing, even sticking his tongue out when he was done. “What were you researching?”

Dean plopped down in his chair and poured a shit ton of syrup on his pancakes. “That thing you do where you're somewhere else, ya know?”

Sam made some non-committal sound, taking another bite.

“It's got a name!”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Wmmly?”

“Sam!” Bobby chided.

Sam stuck his tongue out again. “Really?” he repeated.

“Yeah! I stayed up the other night on the desktop listening to the _entire_ DSM.”

“DSM?”

“Don't worry about it. Anyway, it's called _dissociation.”_

“Di-...?”

“Dissociation.

“Dissociation,” Sam repeated slowly. “So… other people have this, too?”

Dean grinned wide at him. “Yeah! They do! You're not alone and there are things we can do to help!”

Sam furrowed his brow. “Like what?”

“Wvv thmt t’ mw,” Dean said through his pancakes.

“DEAN.”

Dean grinned at Bobby before winking at Sam. “Leave that to me.”

\---

It was a few days before Sam had another episode.

Dean almost didn’t notice. He was busy trying to teach himself Braille, waving off any help offered. It was when he finally sighed and shouldered Sam that he noticed something was up.

“Sammy, I give in. Wanna help me with this?”

Sam looked blearily at the pages beneath Dean’s fingertips. “Uh, sure, yeah.”

“Sweet. Okay, which letter am I touching here? It kinda feels like an E but I can’t tell…”

“Umm….”

Dean waited what felt like a full minute and frowned. “Um? Well, o sighted individual? What letter is it?”

“I dunno?”

“Didn’t you say there was, like, written stuff beneath the letters?”

“I dunno…”

Dean sighed and shut the book. “Are you here with me right now?”

Sam mumbled something.

Dean reached out and held Sam’s face in his hands. “Sammy, look at me. Are you looking at me?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay. I’ve got a piece of candy in my shirt pocket. Eat it, okay?”

“‘Kay.” Sam took the candy and unwrapped it from its cellophane, popping it in his mouth.

Dean leaned back just as Sam cursed loudly, the candy making a sharp _clack_ as it hit the floor.

“DEAN!” Sam yelled. “WHAT THE HELL?!”

“You here now?” Dean asked, shit-eating grin firmly in place.

“Where did you even _find_ candy that sour?!”

Dean shrugged. “Internet.”

Sam sprung up to get some water, and Dean smiled to himself.

He waited until Sam sat back down, more than likely glaring daggers at him, before he grinned and asked again, “Hey Sammy, what letter is this?”

\---

Dean tossed his head back from the computer screen, yelling, “You’ve got mail!”

Bobby walked over and crouched beside Dean, taking the mouse from him. “Thanks,” he mumbled, hitting print and letting Dean go back to his research.

He waited as the printer squeaked out the page, snatching it up and taking it back into his study.

_**Dear Bobby,** _

_**I’m glad Sam and Dean are doing okay. We really thought them all dead. You really should have told us sooner! Jo and I are doing good, thanks for asking. Things are still tough, but getting better. Jo doesn’t have as many nightmares anymore. The Roadhouse is doing good, too. Come visit more often, why don’t you!** _

_**But to get to the rest of it… Haitian zombies? Really? This far in? It’s pretty unheard of, and so is reversing the process. I’ve been picking brains around here (discreetly, don’t worry), and I've got a few leads on a cure of sorts. I'll keep you updated. Say hi to the kids for me, even if they don't remember me.** _

_**-Ellen** _

Bobby placed the email in a folder he had made specifically for the boys. He had a separate one, one they knew about. When one would find really good information, they got to 'do the honors’ of putting the paper into the heavily-decorated manilla folder and tallying a mark below their name.

But this folder. This one was for Bobby.

Here he kept all mentions of things they didn't need to think about. Things like that fire all those years ago, any mentions of John, copies of the reports from that so secretive night almost six months ago.

Bobby tried not to think about that. How they'd been on the road three months before they got to him.

Sometimes, late at night, he worried he would never be able to make them alright again.

But other times, when they had dragged their sleeping bags into his room, yet somehow wound up on either side of his bed, snoring loudly, he knew that he would.

Before Bobby could so much as shake himself out of his thoughts, one of his phones rang.

“Hello?” he answered, slipping the folder back into a drawer.

“Bobby!” Rufus said on the line. “I've got two kinds of news here. Which ya want first?”

“Depends. Is it good news and bad news?”

“It's more… good news and really really weird news.”

“Start with the good.”

“Job's done. That body is all woodchippered up and scattered across the seven seas. Or well, across seven states at least.”

“Thanks, Rufus. What's the other news?”

“I uh… I took a picture because you wouldn't believe me.”

“Spit it out.”

“You're gonna recognize the body.”

“What? Why?”

“Bobby… it was Mary.”

\---

Dean scooted back from the computer, setting his headphones down. “Ya in here, Sammy?” he asked the room.

“Yeah, Dean. I’m in here.”

Dean plopped down on the couch beside him, throwing his arms up over the back of it. “But are you _here?”_

“Gimme that stupid sour candy.”

Dean had a pleased look on his face as he handed it over, which promptly disappeared as Sam threw it across the room. It made a sharp _clack_ as it hit the wall.

“Oh c’mon, I’m just trying to help!”

Sam snorted. “Okay, but find a different way. My tongue was numb for an _hour,_ man. Surely there were more ways to help?”

“Meh,” Dean said, shrugging. “There were a lot. That one was just the most fun.”

Sam yawned and leaned against his older brother. “You’re creative. You can make them fun.”

Dean humphed and leaned his head against Sam, enjoying the peace for a moment. “Well, next time you’re out of it, I’ll give the others a shot or two.”

“As long as they’re not actual shots.”

Dean snorted. “Nah, they’re not.”

Sam furrowed his brow, eyes shut. “Can I even get sick anymore?”

“Go lick a bathroom floor and find out.”

“Ewwwww.”

“And not like, the bathroom here. I mean, at a bar. At three in the morning.”

“Dean noooooo-”

“Just-” Dean dragged his tongue across Sam’s forehead messily, ignoring his furious attempts to push him away, “like that. But on a disgusting floor.”

“DEAN!” Sam yelled, giggling hard. “You’re so fucking gross!”

“Me? _You’re_ the one that’s gonna lick the bathroom floor.”

“I am _not!”_

Dean shrugged, wrapping his arms around Sam to keep him from wiping his forehead off. “Guess we’ll never know, then. You’re a detriment to the scientific community everywhere, Sammy. Louis Pasteur is rolling over in his grave because of you.”

“Let me go,” Sam said, trying not to grin.

“What was that? Did you say you wanted to be tickled?”

“NO!”

“Yes? Really? Well, okay, I mean, if it’s what you want then…” Dean trailed off, launching into tickling Sam.

“De-e-e-e-an!” Sam yelled out between laughs.

“Well, it appears you’re still ticklish. We are making scientific advances even without your input, Sammy. Really, I thought you were a man of science! And here you are, denying future generations the knowledge of whether or not zombies are ticklish.”

“They are! They are!” Sam squealed out, trying to aim a punch at Dean.

“And their fight or flight response is also still intact! How wonderful! But can a zombie beat an oracle in a living room fist fight, that’s the real question.”

Sam managed to throw Dean off, grinning at him. “You’re no oracle! You’re just a Stevie Wonder wannabe!”

Dean stood up, stretching his arms and grinning. “Well I am personally offended here, Sammy. How dare you to assume, dear brother, that I do not converse with the mystical, ancient gods that reside in the forests surrounding the house? In fact, just yesterday I had a lovely discussion with Charon about modern radio.”

Sam lunged and Dean dodged, causing Sam to land in a chair. “You did not!” Sam yelled, laughing.

“Did too! We also discussed the rising water levels on the River Styx. Beautiful place, maybe you should visit sometime!”

Sam tackled Dean to the floor, laughing as he pinned him down. “You wish!”

“No see, I don’t _have_ to wish!” Dean flipped them so he was pinning Sam. “As an oracle, the gods do favor me.”

Sam rammed his knee into Dean’s stomach, throwing him off. “Not even the mirror favors you!”

Dean couldn’t help the laugh that escaped from his lips. “About time you came up with a good comeback, Sammy!”

“What can I say? The gods do favor me.”

Dean reached out and grabbed Sam’s leg, pulling him down. “Only because I told them to.” Dean flashed a grin at his younger brother.

“Boys.”

Sam and Dean stopped fighting and turned to Bobby.

Neither saw the flash of emotion that crossed his face.

“Bedtime.”

Dean grinned and used Sam’s head to propel himself up. “Saved by the bell, Sammy.”

Sam gave Dean a gentle shove. “You’re lucky Dad saved you. You were _so_ losing.”

Dean flipped Sam off. “You don’t know what losing looks like then, little brother.”

Sam elbowed past Dean into the hall. “Uh, yeah I do. It looks like a goddamn oracle.”


	9. In Which They Talk

How was he supposed to bring it up?

‘Sam, Dean. I know your mother somehow came back to life. Can one of y’all please tell me the full story?’

No, shit. That wouldn’t work.

‘Sam, Dean. Will you please tell me what happened that night?’

Bobby sighed. It really wasn’t right to pry.

He just… Damn it all. He just wanted to know what had his two boys in such a frenzy every other night, running into his room and slipping into bed with him.

At first, they tried to slip back out before he woke up. But as of late, Bobby had taken to getting up first, tucking them both in, and starting his day. He just hoped they knew when they woke up that it was okay.

He should really slip that in there somewhere, in daily conversation. Let them know it was okay to feel things. Just a quick, ‘I’m goin’ out to work on the truck. Be safe. Love y’all.’

Maybe he’d do that today.

Sam stumbled into the kitchen first, yawning loudly. “Mornin’, Dad,” he mumbled, going straight for coffee.

“Mornin’, son. How ya feelin’?”

Sam shrugged. “Bout the same. I got about four hours of sleep, so that’s good.”

Bobby nodded, taking a sip from his mug. “Ellen is pickin’ brains down at the Roadhouse, so we may have somethin’ to fix ya soon.”

Sam plopped down in the chair next to him, smiling softly. “Thanks, papa.” Sam took a drink and winced at the taste, reaching for sugar. “I think I like papa better than dad. What do you think?”

“Are you askin’ me to pick my own name?”

Sam shrugged. “I had friends say grandmas get to do that. Now you get the chance, too! Dad or Papa?”

Bobby couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I like Papa, too.”

Sam tried his coffee again, smiling wide this time. “Papa it is. What are you gonna do today?”

Bobby pulled some folded blue pages from his pocket and handed them to Sam. “Them are blueprints. I’m plannin’ on expandin’ the garage today. Or startin’ on it, at least.”

“How come?”

“Well, if I ain’t huntin’ I probably shouldn’t be runnin’ credit card scams neither. Gotta make an honest man of myself.”

Sam pulled his legs up and sat cross-legged in his seat. “Are ya gonna find a wife next?”

Bobby choked on coffee.

Sam winced at the coughing. “Sorry.”

Bobby took a couple more gulps to soothe his throat. “You’re good. Um, I mean, wives don’t just crawl out of the woodworks.”

Sam scrunched his nose. “No.”

“I mean, if one came up I wouldn’t be _against_ it, I mean-...” Bobby trailed off, suddenly unsure.

“Dean and I could go find you a wife!” Sam exclaimed, eyes bright, bouncing in his seat. “We could go around the stores and interview people until we find someone that you’d like! And then we’d bring her back here and y’all would fall in love and get married and then Dean and I could have a little sister - oooo! Or maybe another brother and then I wouldn’t be the youngest anymore and-”

Sam went on while Bobby grinned, listening to the enthusiastic kid.

“Well,” Bobby said once Sam was out of breath, “how about this? If you find somebody who is _single_ and you really like, I’ll let you set us up on a date. Deal?”

Sam bounded out of his seat, hugging Bobby around the neck. “Deal!”

“Who's makin’ deals?” Dean asked from the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

Sam grinned at him, refusing to release Bobby. “Papa said we could find him a wife!”

Dean grinned. “Yeah? Papa said that?”

“Yeah! But he said she had to be single.”

Dean couldn't help but laugh a little. “Well, that's no fun! Where are we 'sposed to find a wife? And coffee, while we're at it.”

Sam poured him a cup, excitedly babbling about plans to find the 'perfect woman’ for Papa.

Bobby almost regretted saying they could set him up, but the wide grins on their faces pushed any doubt away. Besides. The kids knew him well. They wouldn't suggest anyone he couldn't get along with.

“What about Ellen?” Sam said, bounding back to his seat and staring wide-eyed at Bobby. “You mentioned someone named Ellen who works at a Roadhouse! That means free pie!”

Dean sat down beside Sam, ladling sugar into his mug (and spilling some on the table). “Free pie? I'm sold. When can we meet her?”

“Oh,” Sam said. “He's blushing.”

Dean dropped his sugar spoon. “He is not!” Dean exclaimed in disbelief, slowly grinning.

“Shuddap, both of ya,” Bobby grumbled. “Ellen's a widow, anyway. She probably ain't lookin’ for someone new.”

Sam frowned. “Oh.”

Dean sipped at his coffee in defeat. “Well, can we meet her anyway?”

Bobby shrugged. “I don't see why not. Bit of a road trip, though. She's got a daughter you might take a likin’ to.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “What's her name?”

“They call her Jo. She's a spitfire, that's for sure.”

Sam grinned and elbowed Dean. “Hey, Dean needs somebody to keep him in line!”

“Now now, Sammy,” Dean responded. “That is no way to discuss our future sister.”

“But Papa just said-”

“We have time! These things gotta go _slow_ , Sammy. We'll get them married eventually.”

Bobby sputtered into his coffee. “You haven't even met her!”

Dean shrugged. “You like her, and that's good enough for us.”

Bobby couldn't help but laugh a little. “Alright. I'll humor ya. Besides, Jo could use a friend or two.”

“How old is she?” Sam asked, eyes wide at the possibility.

“She's…” Bobby counted back. “She's nine this year.”

Sam leapt up and cheered loudly. “I WON'T BE THE YOUNGEST ANYMORE!”

Dean leaned over and whispered, “You'll still be the youngest brother.”

Sam paused and sunk back into his seat. “Aww.”

\---

Dean was the designated tool-holder while Sam held up the boards and Bobby nailed them in place.

“Nail,” Bobby called out.

Dean held out a nail to Bobby, point side down.

“So,” Sam started, watching Bobby intently. “After we get the framework up, _then_ can we go see Ellen and Jo?”

Bobby held a few nails in his mouth to keep from answering.

Sam whined. “C’mon, papa!”

Dean grinned at Sam’s antics. “Yeah. C’mon, papa!”

Bobby rolled his eyes and hammered in a few more nails, until his mouth was cleared. “We’ll go when she has some information for us, alright? Quit teasin’ an old man about this. Besides, they’re a five hour drive away.”

“Pffft, that’s nothing!” Dean held his hand out for the hammer. “Me and Sam and Dad used to drive all night to get to some places!”

“Yeah, well,” Bobby started, coming down the ladder. “You shouldn’t’a had to.”

“But we actually _want_ to go with you to Ellen’s!”

Bobby looked to the boys and raised an eyebrow. “So you never wanted to go hunting with John?”

Sam looked at his own feet, and Dean cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Um,” Dean began. “See, the thing is-”

“Hunting is scary,” Sam finished in a small voice.

Dean cleared his throat again. “Um. Yeah. Yeah. That.”

Bobby regarded the two thoughtfully. “Yeah? You know, sometimes talking about it helps a lot. We can turn it into a good memory.”

“How?” Sam asked, still staring down at his shoes.

“Well, ya know that when you remember something, you’re actually just remembering the last time you remembered it, right?”

Sam finally looked up, brow furrowed. “Really?”

“Yeah. So if you remember it now and we talk about it, next time you’ll think of this, too. And it won’t seem so bad.”

Sam whispered something to Dean, who grinned and nodded.

“We’ll tell you on the way to Ellen’s!” Dean announced proudly, already marching over to the truck.

Bobby grabbed his shirt and hauled him back. “Nice try, boys. She has a business, ya know. We can’t just go marchin’ in!”

“What kinda business?” Sam asked.

“Huh?”

“What kinda business?” he repeated.

Bobby mentally cursed. “A… bar.”

Dean grinned, releasing himself from Bobby’s grip. “Then marchin’ in is _exactly_ what we should do!”

Bobby ran a hand over his scruff. “Look, she’s doin’ research for us and we don’t need to be showin’ up before she’s ready for us.”

Dean looked in the direction of Sam, raising an eyebrow. “Does that sound like an excuse to you, Sammy?”

“Sure does, Dean!”

Bobby shook his head, moving his ladder over and hauling himself up it. “Can you two just drop it for a while?”

Sam poked his bottom lip out, eyes wide. “We just wanna make you happy since you’re trying to make us happy.”

Bobby looked down at the two kids, already half-covered in dirt, staring up at him. “I’m already happy,” he told them softly.

Sam grinned while Dean scoffed and said, “Ya fuckin’ sap.”

Bobby smiled and rolled his eyes. “Hand me the hammer, Cadet.”

\---

Sam was passed out asleep on the couch, snoring loudly. Dean was perched on the kitchen counter, keeping Bobby company.

“It’s nice that he’s actually sleeping again,” Dean said, breaking the silence.

“Was he not?”

“Nah. Not at all when we were travellin’ up here.”

“Yeah? Maybe he just feels more comfortable here.”

“Maybe.”

They were quiet for a while more, Dean absently pulling on loose threads on his flanel.

“Hey, Papa,” Dean said very quietly, almost like he was hoping Bobby wouldn’t hear.

“Yeah?” Bobby said just as quietly, giving Dean plausible deniability.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“About what?”

“About remembering things.”

Bobby sat down the pencil he was working on the blueprints with. “Yeah, I meant that.”

“Oh.”

Bobby waited a moment for Dean to continue. “Why were you wonderin’?” Bobby finally prompted.

Dean squirmed on the counter. “I wanna talk but I… don’t wanna talk, too.”

“Why don’t you wanna talk, son?”

Dean hunched his shoulders, head down. “I’m scared you’ll be mad at me.”

Bobby looked at the small form perched on his counter and decided to go for it. “I love you, Dean.”

Dean’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “What?” he said in a whisper.

“I love you,” Bobby repeated. “I could never be mad at you for long. I promise.”

Dean had run out the door before Bobby had time to react.

Bobby cursed under his breath and ran after him, out into the cool autumn wind.

Leaves were kicked up in the cutting breeze, blown directly to Dean.

“Dean,” Bobby said, hands outstretched, slowly stepping forward, “it’s okay. You can trust me, okay?”

Dean was bouncing on his toes, but not like Sam. Like he was getting ready to run. “You love me,” Dean accused, taking a step back.

“I… I do, yeah. I love you.”

Dean stumbled back a few more steps, white eyes filmed with black. “I love you, too,” Dean called out over the wind that was whipping his hair around. “That ain’t okay! When you love somebody, they just...” Dean cut himself off, head turning like he could somehow see a way out of this whole mess.

Bobby rubbed a hand across his scruff, looking up at the evening clouds as they thundered and rolled.

It was going to storm. Soon.

“I won’t hurt you, Dean,” Bobby said, taking a few more quiet steps forward, weighing his words. “Not like your dad. ...Not like your mom.”

Dean’s head snapped to him, eyes dark grey. “You know.”

“I know.”

“How much do you know?” Dean asked, face blending in with the darkened forest behind him.

“Just that somehow your mom came back, and she did somethin’ to you and Sam that messed y’all up bad. Please, Dean. I just wanna help. I’ve seen my fair share of shit, you know that. I can help you through this. But you gotta trust me.”

Dean was bouncing again, like he was going to take off and never come back.

He would die out there.

“Dean-”

“I don’t know how!” Dean finally confessed over the howling wind. “I don’t know _how_ to trust anyone but Sam!”

“You let me in! You let me _help you!”_

Bobby took a few more steps, sounds covered by the oncoming storm.

“Dad-...” Dean said, hands tangled in his own flanel.

“I’m here.”

Dean shook his head. “NO. Not you!”

“John?”

Dean nodded, bouncing on his toes, eyes wide and wild, head turning, listening for an opening. “John.”

“What about John?” Just a few more steps and he could stop Dean from doing something he’d regret.

There was a sudden stillness, as if the wind had stopped blowing, as if everything was moving in slow motion as Dean turned towards Bobby, tears flowing freely as the rain began to pour.

“I-”

“Dean?” a small voice said.

Both turned to Sam, though only Bobby saw the small yawn and the tired scrubbing at his eyes.

Sam stumbled over to Dean, leaning hard against him. “Why ya out here in the storm?” Sam mumbled, eyes already closing again.

Dean blinked a few times and wrapped Sam up tight in his arms. “Did ya have a nightmare?” he asked softly.

Sam nodded, snuggling further into Dean’s chest. “It’s cold,” he murmured. “And wet.”

“Well… then, let’s go inside. Get you back to your nap.”

Dean dutifully avoided Bobby’s gaze as he walked Sam back inside, discreetly wiping his face with his sleeve.

Bobby waited until they were both gone before cursing and throwing his hat into the mud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm thinking of making an actual update schedule (for once). How would y'all feel about once a week? Or do you prefer being surprised lol


	10. In Which Kids Are Little Shits

“So,” Sam started, “are we ever gonna go see Ellen?”

Bobby huffed and wrote more notes on the book he was reading. “Eventually.”

“Hm.” Sam went back to folding paper airplanes out of scrap. “Why don’t you dress up today?”

Bobby raised an eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“Well, maybe if you dress up and see that you look alright, you’ll wanna go ahead and go see her! And bring us, too!”

Bobby snorted. “Oh yeah. Sure. Bringing two rambunctious kids on a date is the perfect way to make sure she likes me.”

Dean plopped into the chair beside Bobby, scooting it as close to him as he could get. “Can we make food tonight?”

Bobby side-eyed him. “You just want pie for dinner again. And it’s not a bank holiday so no.”

Dean sidled up against Bobby. “I was thinkin’ pasta.”

Bobby glanced back and forth between the two of them, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What did y’all do?”

“Nothing!” Sam and Dean said in tandem, much too quickly.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door.

Bobby took a deep breath, steeling himself. “So, you two promise me that if I go and open that door, it won’t be Ellen?”

Sam crossed his arms awkwardly as Dean said, “Pssssh. How would she even be here? It’s not like we know her number!”

“Yeah, but Rufus does.”

Sam made an indignant sound. “Rufus does?! Man, that would’ve been so much easier…”

Dean shrugged. “Go on, man. Your woman is a-waitin’.”

Bobby huffed in irritation. “When I get back, you two are going to be in an  _ immense _ amount of trouble.”

Bobby avoided their puppy-dog eyes as he swung the door open.

“Heya, Bobby!”

“Rufus?” Bobby asked, thoroughly confused. “What are you doin’ here?”

Rufus ducked inside and closed the door behind him. “Got some stuff to talk to ya about. Are the boys here?”

Rufus was answered by way of Sam and Dean crashing into him.

He laughed as he tried to untangle himself from them. “I’ll take that as a yes. Didn’t think you two would still remember me. I haven’t seen y’all in - hell, it’s gotta be at least five years.”

Dean grinned up at him and Rufus cursed. “Shit, boy. Bobby didn’t tell me you got your eyes all fucked up.”

Sam stuck his tongue out. “I’m a zombie.”

Rufus gave Bobby a ‘what the actual fuck’ look, to which Bobby merely shrugged.

Sam and Dean tugged on Rufus’ hands, trying to lead him back outside. “Hey!” Dean said. “You can take us out for the afternoon!”

Rufus didn’t budge. “Why would I do that?”

Sam doubled his efforts. “Because Papa’s got a date!”

“He does?” Rufus winked at Bobby. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Bobby took his hat off in frustration. “These two idjits done asked Ellen to come.”

It took Rufus a second, but then he was laughing and leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah, yeah. Shuddap,” Bobby grumbled, hitting him with his hat.

“How?” Rufus asked, still chuckling.

Dean flashed him a smile. “Email!”

Rufus grinned back. “I’ll take you two out so this old man can get a good date in. Is she bringin’ Jo?”

Sam nodded, bouncing up and down excitedly.

“Then I’ll take you  _ all  _ out, but you two gotta let me talk to Bobby alone for a few minutes. Deal?”

Sam and Dean both had barely yelled “Deal!” by the time they were running up the stairs to grab their shoes.

Rufus raised an eyebrow at Bobby. “You gonna change clothes or somethin’?”

Bobby huffed and leaned against the wall. “Nobody asked you.”

Rufus shrugged and reached into his jacket pocket, producing a small vial. “Got this back from some testing.”

Bobby took it and examined its contents curiously. “What is it?”

“I found it in Mary’s ears - don’t ask. Bobby, it’s sulfur.”

“Sulfur?”

“Yeah. So I dunno what you’ve managed to drag outta them kids, but…”

“Mary was possessed,” Bobby realized.

“It’s lookin’ like it.”

“So… what are ya tryna tell me? That these two kids killed a goddamn  _ demon?” _

“For their sakes? I hope they did. Those things don’t let shit go that easily.”

“You don’t think…?”

“What? That it’s still out there? Bobby, I have no idea. If they ain’t tellin’ you shit, they sure as hell ain’t tellin’  _ me _ shit.”

Bobby cursed. “Just look after ‘em, okay?”

“I’ll treat ‘em as my own.”

\---

“YYYYEEEEEEHHAAAAWWWWWW!” Dean yelled, making his mark on the Mechanical Bull Hall of Fame.

Sam cheered him on enthusiastically while Rufus stifled his own laughter and took another swig of beer.

“Hey, Dean!” Rufus yelled out. “If you beat the record, I’ll buy both of ya root beer floats!”

Sam’s eyes widened and he yelled out, “DEAN YOU CAN DO THIS!”

Dean looked the direction of the two of them, winked, and stood up on the machine, easily swaying with the motions.

Sam tried to hide his grin.

Dean threw both middle fingers up. “GET READY TO PAY UP, OLD MAN!”

“Goddammit,” Rufus said under his breath.

By the time Dean had doubled the record, Rufus already had their floats waiting for them.

“I can’t believe,” Rufus began, “that I got conned by a coupla kids!”

Dean simply shrugged, sipping on his ice cream. “Pays to not underestimate people, gramps.”

Sam nodded enthusiastically, mouth full of dessert.

Rufus rolled his eyes and checked his phone. “Ellen will be here with Jo any minute now.”

“Ib sbe pbtty?” Sam said.

“Kid,” Rufus reprimanded.

“Is she pretty?” Sam tried again.

“Who, Jo? She’s nine, Sammy.”

“NO. Ellen!”

“Oh. Yeah, she’s pretty. A real spitfire.”

Dean grinned. “Does it run in the family?”

“Pfft. Yes. Oh, hey, that’s them.”

Sam and Dean watched curiously as an older woman with brown hair walked over with a little blonde girl.

“Rufus,” the older said. “Nice to see ya again. I think.”

Rufus grinned. “I’m on babysitter duty.”

“Yeah?” She looked at the two boys. “I’m Ellen. I’m guessin’ you two are Sam and Dean?”

“Yep! I’m Dean, and this is my little brother Sammy.”

Sam stuck his tongue out at Dean. “It’s  _ Sam.” _

Ellen smiled a little. “I knew your father. Sorry to hear about him.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s okay. Nice to meet ya.”

“Are you Jo?” Sam cut in, addressing the little blonde girl.

Jo puffed her chest out and nodded, face serious. “You can bet your ass I am!”

Sam held out his root beer float. “Wanna share my ice cream?”

“Sure!” Jo hopped up on a bar stool beside him. “Wanna be friends?”

“Sure! This is my brother Dean! He’s my best friend.”

The three kids chatted amongst themselves as Rufus and Ellen walked a little ways away.

“What happened to your eyes?” Jo asked Dean, squishing his face with her hands.

“Shecret,” Dean said through his cheeks.

Jo pouted. “Oh, c’mon! I promise I won’t tell!”

“Shtill a shecret.”

“Please?” Jo asked, giving him the puppy dog eyes Sam had patented long ago.

Not that Dean knew.

It was almost like that damn cave blindness again, the way he saw rain and heard Bobby’s voice again, saying,  _ ‘It’ll get better if you talk about it.’ _

“Shwear not to tell anybody,” Dean said sternly.

Jo nodded, realized he couldn’t see her, and then said, “I swear!”

Dean narrowed his eyes before sighing. “Shold ‘em to a demon,” Dean mumbled.

“Why?”

“Shaved Shammy.”

“Oh.” Jo let go of his face. “That’s a good reason.”

Dean nodded. “But you’re our friend so you’re not gonna tell anyone, right?”

Jo’s eyes lit up. “Right! Our secret! Hey, wanna go outside and play Cops and Robbers?”

“I’m the robber!” Sam yelled, already jumping off his seat.

Jo grabbed Dean’s hand and tugged him towards the door. “We’re the cops! Dean, put on your siren!”

Dean grinned, taking the lead and pulling Jo along with him. “C’mon, we can’t let Two-Timin’ Tim get away! He’s got a bajillion dollars he stole from the bank!”

“YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALI- hey!” Sam yelled out as he was scooped up by Ellen.

Ellen raised one eyebrow at Rufus. “I can see you’ll have your hands full.”

Jo cheered loudly. “Officer Dean! Look! The Chief caught the robber!”

Dean made finger guns and told Jo, “Don’t be fooled! The chief has gotta go on a date soon, so you and I are gonna have to keep an eye on ol’ Tim!”

Jo looked at his hands and copied his finger guns after a few tries, aiming them at Sam. “Yeah! Don’t try anything!”

Ellen sat Sam down, holding onto the back of his shirt. “Date? What do you mean date? Bobby emailed me saying there was a case to talk about.”

Sam tried to squirm away. “Um. Well. Ya see…”

Dean came to his rescue. “It was us, ma’am. We decided Papa needed a wife so we picked one out!” He heard Ellen’s sharp curse and paled. “We’re sorry! He just seems so lonely sometimes and he’s a great Papa and he likes you a lot and Jo would make a good little sister and-”

“Rufus,” Ellen said sharply, looking at him. “Did you know about this?”

It was Rufus’ turn to squirm. “Um. I mean, like, did I  _ know  _ know or-”

Ellen huffed. “All three of you are ridiculous. I drove five hours just to be set up on a blind date?! Does Bobby know?”

Dean cleared his throat. “He didn’t before this morning, ma’am.”

Ellen groaned. “What even gave you this kind of convoluted idea?”

Sam finally piped up. “Well, he was making plans for expanding his shop since he’s giving up hunting and everything, and so I asked him if a wife was next and-”

“Wait,” Ellen interrupted him, “did you just say Bobby Singer was giving up hunting?”

Sam nodded. “It was one of the criteria for us letting him adopt us.”

“He adopted you?”

“The papers went through about two weeks ago.”

Ellen let him go, and Jo immediately aimed her finger guns at him. “Don’t move there, outlaw!”

Sam held his hands up.

Ellen sighed. “Well, alright then. Just to be clear, I’m not going to go on a date with Bobby. I’m just going to go talk to a friend.”

Dean nodded just as Sam booked it for the door.

“Officer Dean!” Jo yelled, grabbing his hand again and pulling him along. “Tim escaped!”

“I warned ya he would!”

Ellen and Rufus watched them run outside.

“Cute kids,” Ellen said.

“Yep.”

“Better go catch ‘em.”

Rufus paused before groaning, “Aw, shit!” and running after them.


	11. In Which the Kids Find a Fort

Jo was breathing hard and grinning. “I think we lost him. Where are we?”

Dean winked and pointed up, and Sam pulled him a few feet over.

“There,” Sam said.

Jo looked up, her eyes immediately widening. “A treehouse!” she yelled excitedly.

Dean grinned at her voice. “Yeah! Sammy found it on one of my Bring-Your-Idiot-To-Work days!”

Jo was already climbing up the first rung nailed into the tree. “You have a job?”

Dean was next. “Almost. I’m a volunteer firefighter!”

“Woooaaahhhhh!”

“They call me Cadet!”

Sam took up the rear. “He’s really good, too! Saved two people his first day!”

Jo pulled herself into the treehouse, scraping her knee a little. “Cool! It’s gotta be awesome ‘cause you can’t see the fire so you can’t be scared!”

Dean hopped in after her. “You kidding me? The fire is scared of  _ me.” _ He reached down the opening to haul Sam inside.

“Yeah,” Sam grunted out, finally surfacing and closing the trapdoor behind him, “scared of your ugly mug, maybe.”

Jo giggled and looked around the room. “This place is awesome!"

Dean scooted back until he was leaning against the wall, legs stretched out on the floor. “Right? Sammy did good with this one.”

Sam copied Dean. “Duh.”

Jo glanced out the small window before sinking down to the floor, too. “Mama says your dad died,” she blurted out.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Yours did, too, right?”

“Yeah. It was four years ago, though. I still get sad sometimes.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. That’s normal. Our mom died- … She died eleven years ago, really. I still think about the way she used to be and get sad, too.”

Sam looked back and forth between the two of them. “I don’t remember the way Mom used to be. All I’ve got is what she became. But I remember Dad.”

Dean shook his head. “All you’ve got of Dad is what he became, too. He used to be different.”

Jo scooted closer to the boys. “What was your dad like?”

Dean couldn’t see both kids looking at him with wide eyes. “Well, he always did drink a bit much. But he was so damn in love with Mom it wasn’t even funny. He made a buncha mistakes, but he was mostly nice. He couldn’t hold a candle to Mom, though. Mom loved us more than herself. She never abandoned us. She-” Dean cut himself off, wiping harshly at his eyes.

“Your eyes changed colors,” Jo marvelled.

Dean furrowed his brow. “They what?”

“They went all black for a second!”

Dean was on his feet, breathing hard. “THEY  _ WHAT?!” _

“Woooaaahhh, woah woah woah. It’s okay. They always do that when you cry,” Sam said, pulling Dean back down. “You’re okay. It happens every time.”

“Wasn’t crying,” Dean grumbled.

Jo crawled over to him and snuggled up to his side. “Hey, it’s okay. Sometimes I cry when I think of my dad, too.”

Dean cleared his throat, embarrassed. “What was your dad like?”

Jo smiled at the memory. “Wonderful. He used to come home and scoop me up in his arms and he was reeeaalllyyy tall so I got to see everything from so high up! And he could make the best burgers  _ ever  _ and he would always tuck me in and read me a bedtime story. His favorite was Matilda!” Jo’s smile slowly faded. “I miss him a lot.”

Dean frowned and slung an arm around her. “It’s okay. We’re here for ya.”

She pushed out her bottom lip. “Is there a heaven?”

Dean’s eyes widened as Sam scooted around to her side. “Yeah! Of course there is.”

“Is my dad there?”

“All dads go there!”

“All  _ good _ dads,” Dean corrected.

“How do you know?”

Sam wrapped her up in a hug. “Because Dean’s talked to God!”

Dean wrinkled his nose. “Don’t go tellin’ people that, Sammy.”

Jo’s eyes were wide as she stared up at Dean. “I won’t tell anyone! You talked to God?!”

Dean gave her a little smile. “Yeah. Right after I sold my eyes. She told me how to save Sammy.”

“What does God look like? Oh, or do I call her Miss God?”

Dean waved his free hand in front of his face. “Couldn’t see, remember?”

“Oh.” Jo rested her chin on Dean’s shoulder, staring at him. “What do demons look like?”

Dean frowned. “They’re really bright. Made my eyes hurt. I think they wanted my eyes because they didn’t have any.”

Jo gasped. “Demons don’t have eyes?!”

Dean shook his head. “Nah. Just these holes with white light comin’ out of ‘em.”

\---

Ellen knocked on Bobby’s door, looking over to the half-built extension to the car shop.

“Ellen,” Bobby said, swinging the door open.

“Bobby,” she responded. “I see you’re expanding?”

“Oh, well, yeah. I thought maybe since…” he trailed off.

“Since you’re giving up hunting?” she offered, smiling.

“Damn. See you’ve talked to the boys.”

“They’re a riot.”

“Come on in.” Bobby closed the door behind her as she shrugged her coat off. “Sorry ‘bout all of this. When I told the boys they could set me up with somebody, I didn’t expect them to choose-”

“Me?”

Bobby coughed awkwardly before retreating to the kitchen. “Ya hungry? I just made a pie so I could refuse to give it to the boys for all of this.”

Ellen snort-laughed, covering her face with her hand. “I think that’s cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Yeah well…” Bobby handed her a slice on a plate. “They earned it. I am a bit proud, though. They managed to hack my email account.”

Ellen sat down in a chair. “It’s an email account. It ain’t too hard, Bobby.”

Bobby smiled, sitting down opposite her. “An’ they musta impersonated me pretty well to get you here.”

Ellen glared at him, smiling. “This is good pie.”

“Just doin’ my fatherly duties.”

“Oh yeah,” she said, preparing another bite. “They said you adopted them.”

“Well, I couldn’t very well let someone  _ else _ get them, could I?”

“You old softie. What’s new?”

Bobby half-laughed. “A lot. Got two boys, quit my night job, expanded my day job, um…” He leaned in conspiratorial. “And Sam wants a dog.”

“A dog?”

“A dog. And he’s got these stupid puppy dog eyes so-”

“So?”

“So I was gonna take him to the pound today, but I’ll take him whenever he’s ungrounded.”

Ellen laughed softly. “Oh, go easy on those boys. They just want you to be happy.”

“Ya gotta watch out, though. It’s the cuteness that pulls ya in.”

“Yeah well, my little firecracker is the same way. Don’t let the pigtails fool ya. She’s ruthless.”

Bobby couldn’t help the fond smile on his face. “Did she and the boys seem to get on well?”

“Oh, yeah!” Ellen said, throwing her hands up. “You’d think they’d known each other for years! Went immediately to playing Cops and Robbers.”

“Who was the robber?”

“Sam.” Ellen finished off her pie and Bobby handed her a beer. “So tell me Singer… are ya wantin’ this to be a date?”

Bobby choked on his beer. “What?”

“You heard me,” Ellen responded cooly, taking a sip of her own.

Bobby cleared his throat awkwardly, looking anywhere but her. “Um. Maybe? I mean, do-... do you?”

Ellen shrugged. “I’m not against the idea. It’s probably about time we both got back out there, huh?”

Bobby sighed. “It’s hard sometimes.”

“I can drink to that.”

They tapped bottles, and, for the first time in a while, Bobby felt a little of his stress melt away.

“It’s gotta be harder, havin’ a kid and all,” Bobby said. “Does she remember him?”

“Yeah, she does. She still just knows he died on a hunt, though.”

“Didn’t tell her about John?”

“Course not. She’s too young to know shit like that.”

Bobby sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I wish I could protect my boys that way. They’ve done seen way too much.”

Ellen regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before standing up and heading to the living room. “How about a movie?” she offered.

“Depends on which one.”

“Fistful of Dollars?”

Bobby grinned. “Now you’re speakin’ my language.”

\---

Jo laughed as she won the third game of Candyland in a row. “Ha! Beat ya again! Thought you two said you were good at this game?” she sassed, batting her eyelashes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean responded, grinning. “I’m still taller than you so…” Dean stuck his tongue out at her.

“Aw, Dean,” Sam said, fake-concerned, “is your losing muscle sore?”

Jo covered her giggles with her hand as Dean thumped Sam’s head. “C’mon,” he said. “Bout time to be headin’ back. Rufus has probably done turned the whole place upside down by now.”

“Oh, I forgot about him.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

\---

Rufus worried the hem of his shirt as he slowly approached Bobby’s door.

He lost three kids.  _ Three kids. _

He didn’t even know how! He turned his back for one second and they were just - poof! Gone!

He cursed himself silently before knocking on the door.

It took a moment before Ellen answered. “Oh, hey, Rufus. Did y’all have fun?”

“Yep!” came three voices from behind him.

Sam, Dean, and Jo all pushed past Rufus to get inside, shooting grins back at him.

Rufus got himself a whiskey and sat down for the night.


	12. In Which There's A Dog

Jo was busy blowing bubbles in her chocolate milk while the adults watched the movie.

“What the fuck is that noise,” Dean whispered to her.

“I'm making bubbles in my milk,” she responded.

“Oh. Why?”

“Dunno. It sounds neat.” Jo took a big gulp and looked at him. “Can you hear super good since you can't see? Like Superman?!”

Dean laughed quietly. “Nah, everything sounds the same.”

“Is everything black?”

“I mean, no? It's just… nothing at all.”

“All the time?”

“Well, sometimes I think I see things, but I don't.”

“Hm.” Jo grabbed his hand and pulled him into the kitchen while she made more chocolate milk. “Do you miss it?”

“What? Seeing stuff?” Dean hopped up and sat on the counter. Not like either of them were watching the movie anyways. “I either miss it a lot or I forget I could ever see to begin with. Goes back and forth.”

“Want some chocolate milk?”

“Sure.” Dean waited patiently for her to hand him his drink. “So like, what do you do at home? Do you go to school?”

“Nope! I'm homeschooled. There aren't a lot of other kids that hang around Mama's bar either, so I don't have many friends.”

“You have me and Sammy.”

She shot him a huge grin and put a glass of milk in his hands. “We're best friends!”

“Three musketeers, that's us.”

“What's a musketeer?”

\---

The movie ended with Sam in the kitchen with Dean and Jo, all talking and laughing amongst themselves.

Ellen looked back at them and smiled fondly before addressing Bobby. “Is it okay if we stay here for a night? It feels too late to make that drive again.”

“Well sure. Jo can sleep in the boys’ room. They always end up in mine anyway.” Bobby glanced over at where Rufus was passed out in a stuffed chair. “I guess I should wake him up.”

“Did he just come to babysit the kids?”

“Nah, he came to give me some info. I'll tell you about it after the kids go to sleep.”

“Fair enough. Rufus!” Ellen called out, rousing him from his sleep.

Rufus yawned and looked around, rubbing his eyes. “How long I been out?”

“Bout two hours. You can stay or go. It's up to you,” Bobby answered.

Rufus stood and stretched. “I better go. Wife's waitin’ up for me.”

“Tell her I said hi,” Ellen remarked, waving as Rufus shrugged on his coat.

“Will do. See y’all around.”

Bobby raised his beer as Rufus shut the door behind him.

Jo wandered into the living room, eyes wide. “Are we staying?” she asked her mom.

“For the night, sweetie.”

Jo cheered and ran to tell the boys the good news.

\---

They finally agreed that Jo and Ellen would stay in the boys’ room, and the boys would stay in Bobby's.

Sam was out before his head hit the pillow.

\---

He was in a forest. The darkness stretched on for miles, and fog raised up from the ground. It glowed slightly, pulsed like a living thing.

“Where are you?” a voice asked behind him.

He turned around to see his mother.

“You're not here. Where are you?” she asked.

“I'm here,” Sam said, shakily.

Her white dress faded out into the fog, blowing in non-existent wind. “I've missed you, son.”

He stared deep into her black eyes. “Get away.”

“You belong with me, Sam.” The scene changed, and they were standing in the house once again. Not even one scorch mark marred the walls yet. “You are destined for greatness.”

Sam sat down and clenched his fists, feeling grass even though he could no longer see it. “I don't care.”

“Come with me,” she repeated, just like she had all those months ago. “You are the Boy King. They will bow before you, Sam. You will _reign.”_

“No,” he responded, not altering the script that had played out every time he slept. The creaks of the house sounded suspiciously like his brother screaming.

Her face hardened, her mouth split wide. “Then I will take your soul myself, torture it into its perfect mold, and guide you to fulfillment.” Her hand reached out, and Sam felt that familiar ache deep in his chest, that sudden pain. He waited for the nothingness that would follow, endless nothingness until suddenly there would be _something._ There would be Dean's wide, black, crying eyes, his hands on Sam's shoulders, shaking hard, screaming his name. And the ache would be gone, and he would feel whole again.

He waited for that.

As the ache intensified, suddenly it was gone. But Sam still felt grass. He still felt tears on his cheeks.

He looked up into the dark eyes of a big, black dog.

\---

Sam gasped in air.

\---

Bobby had coffee ready in the morning. He even made extra for all the company.

He sat down with his first cup and looked over his blueprints, trying not to think about the fact that Ellen Harvelle was asleep upstairs.

Ellen Harvelle.

They had eaten _pie_ last night. They had watched a _movie_ together.

Was this his life now? _Could_ it be? Was he really capable of having a real family?

Sam yawned as he came in before everyone else, as always. Bobby smiled at him as the kid poured a cup of mostly coffee but also milk and sugar.

“Mornin’ Papa,” Sam said, sitting sleepily across from him.

Well, hell.

He already had a real family.

\---

Sam sat across from Bobby in his truck, kicking his feet absently. Dean opted to stay with Jo and Ellen, leaving the grocery shopping to Bobby and Sam.

Bobby pulled into the parking lot, and Sam hopped into the buggy the moment they got inside.

He reached out to grab a sugary cereal as they passed. “How long are they staying?” Sam asked, tossing the box behind him.

“A few days I think,” Bobby responded, handing Sam a bag of coffee.

“When are we gonna go visit them?”

“Soon. After we finish the remodeling.”

Sam sighed and leaned back on their groceries. “That could take _forever.”_

“Then you boys best get ta helpin’ me,” Bobby responded, grinning. “And get off the corn chips!”

Sam leaned up. “Whoops! Sorry.” He grabbed a few cans off the shelf. “So everything went okay?”

“Yeah. More than okay, I reckon. Pretty great.”

“Are you dating?”

“It's… it's different when you're an adult.”

Sam raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Just shuddap and grab me a box of hot chocolate, would ya?”

\---

Sam ate a candy bar on the way back, staring curiously out the window.

“What happened there?” Sam asked.

Bobby glanced over at the smoking hull of a building. “Oh, that. That's an old church. It's been run down for years. Guess they finally did somethin’ 'bout it.”

“Oh,” Sam said, taking another bite. “Cool.” He suddenly gasped so loud he coughed up chocolate. “PAPA STOP THE TRUCK!”

Bobby slammed on his brakes, screeching to a halt. “What? What is it?!”

Sam's eyes were wide as he stared.

\---

Dean snorted as Jo tried to climb up onto a car.

He grinned down at her. “C'mon, firepit, I'm not gettin’ any younger up here!”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “You can't even see!”

“Which puts me at a disadvantage, and yet I'm _still_ up here quicker than you.”

She hauled herself up onto the roof and punched him in the shoulder. “Jackass,” she said, pouting.

He grinned in her direction and pulled out two bags of chips, tossing one her way. “Sam and I like to come out here and just sit for a while.”

“In the cold?”

“It's not that cold.” Dean shrugged. “Sam can't feel it at all anyways.”

Jo plopped down on the roof, squeezing her bag until it burst open. “Sam can't feel the cold?”

“Nope! He's a zombie. But you can't tell anyone, alright?” Dean responded, sitting beside her.

“You two keep a lot of shecrets,” she said around a mouthful of chips.

Dean frowned. “Well, that's because the adults get mad if they find out.”

“Mama doesn't. She just tells me what to do!”

“Yeah well, you're just a kid. You ain't done nothin’ super bad yet. Just wait ‘til you're a teenager and every decision you make turns out to be wrong.”

Jo nodded slowly. “So your papa would put you in time out if he knew?”

Dean shook his head. “Worse.”

“Ground you?”

“Worse.”

“Um… take away your toys?”

“Jo, he'd kick us out. Like, for good.”

Her eyes widened. “Adults can do that?”

“Yeah, if you're really bad.”

Jo swallowed nervously. “How do you know if you're really bad?”

Dean could hear the tremor in her voice and mentally cursed. “Um, you know you've been bad if Santa gives you coal.”

She gasped. “But that's _soon!”_

“Jo, look at me. You're not bad. You're not getting coal.”

Her bottom lip was wobbling. “B-but what if I do? And Mama kicks me out? And I gotta live all alone?”

“Aw… Fuck…” Dean wrapped his arms around Jo, pulling her into a hug. “Look, I didn't mean to make you all upset. Forget I said anything, okay? Your mama won't kick you out.”

She sniffed against his shirt. “Promise?”

Dean sighed in relief. “Yeah. I promise.”

She pulled back, fire in her eyes. _“Pinky promise!”_

Dean flinched. “Woah okay! Jesus!” He held out his pinky for her to link her own with. “I pinky promise.”

“Cross your heart!”

Dean sighed. “Is this really-”

“Cross it!”

“I cross my heart,” Dean deadpanned.

“Hope to die?”

“Stick a needle in my eye.”

She nodded in satisfaction. “Okay.”

“Okay. Now eat your goddamn chips, firepit.”

\---

Jo and Dean were still laying back on the roof of the car when Bobby and Sam got back.

“Do I hear Bobby's truck?” Dean muttered, half-asleep already.

Jo yawned. “Dunno.”

“Give it a look.”

Jo stretched and raised her head up for half a second. “Yes,” she responded, laying back down.

“Should we say hi?”

“After naptime.”

Dean couldn't help but agree.

\---

Ellen roused both of them gently. “Kids, lunchtime.”

Dean's normal 'not a kid’ quip didn't even register on his tongue. He wiped drool off his mouth and winced. “Ew.”

“Yeah, I've been hollerin’ for a few minutes now. Neither of ya woke up.”

Jo slid off the car unceremoniously, slowly becoming more lively. “What's for lunch?”

Dean slid off after her, following their voices.

“Spaghetti,” Ellen said, keeping a close eye on Dean.

Dean yawned and rubbed his eyes as Jo went on about how much she loved spaghetti. He stepped into the house and was greeted with warm pasta smells.

“Dean!” Sam said, laughing slightly. “You'll never guess what happened today!”

Dean opened his eyes again and felt his blood run cold.

“We found a dog!” Sam exclaimed as Dean watched a white, shadowy wolf pace across his nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Have a plot twist!!!


	13. In Which Dean Freaks the Fuck Out

“WHAT THE HELL _IS_ THAT THING?!” Dean screamed, falling backwards in his panic.

He watched it pause and turn its endless eyes to him.

Sam said, “A dog?” but Dean couldn't hear him. All he could hear was the blood rushing through his ears.

The _thing_ took a step forward, and Dean took off. He didn't get too far before he rammed his face into a door frame, knocking himself back onto the ground.

He watched, paralyzed, as the mongrel approached slowly. Its fur was long and disappeared into the mist of the nothingness, and, for just a split second, Dean saw his mother behind it.

It opened its mouth wide, multiple rows of teeth gleaming, and Dean screamed.

“Down, boy!” Sam yelled, wrapping his arms around the hound's neck.

Bobby scooped up Dean, who was bawling and refusing to look up.

“Dean! _Dean!”_ Bobby yelled, sitting him down on the couch.

“Bad dog! Bad!” Sam scolded harshly. “You can't scare Dean like that!” Sam frowned. “He didn't mean it, Dean. He's a nice dog.”

Dean gasped in a breath, arms still shielding his face. “That's not a _fucking dog!”_ he yelled.

“Look, you just can't see him and it's freaking you out and I get that! I'll hold him still and you can pet him, okay? He really is a very sweet-”

Dean let out a strangled noise, balling himself up further. He felt Bobby's hand on his back.

“Sam,” Bobby said gently, “maybe take him outside for a while?”

There were some huffs from Sam, and then, “He won't budge.”

Dean took a shuddering breath and peeked out between his arms, stared at the thing.

It regarded him calmly, and Dean watched it open two more sets of eyes.

The bottom ones were where he stared, as black tears poured from them. It inclined its head softly, stuck its nose out.

He noticed its bloody paws.

“I'm sor-sor-sorry,” Dean pushed out, lowering his arms.

He watched as it curled its tail protectively around where Sam probably was.

“You okay?” Sam asked worriedly.

Dean sank off the couch, slowly inching closer to the hound. He glanced up at its eyes again, waiting for any sign of danger.

The beast moved its head towards Dean, gently rubbing its face against his cheeks, removing his tears.

He saw it now, almost as clear as day. He could feel it radiating off this creature. The sadness, the terror it had felt.

“Can I see your paws?” Dean asked quietly.

It lifted one paw to him, and he gently wiped the blood off, inspecting it.

“Um, Dean?” Sam asked, watching him curiously. “You're acting… weird.” There was a pause, then, “How did you know he had mud on his paws?”

“I can see him,” Dean said, frowning. “You idiots brought home a church grim.”

\---

Jo was busy trying to braid the longest fur on it, and Dean was frowning at its feet, trying to wipe away the sickly red with his shirt.

“Where did you even find one of these?” Dean mumbled, trying to get used to the sensation of seeing the paw he was holding but not his own hand.

Sam was sitting close enough that Dean could feel him fidget. “By a church.”

“The one the fire department was practicing burning down?”

“...Yes.”

Dean turned towards Bobby, eyebrow raised. “And that didn’t strike you as odd?”

Bobby huffed. “People drop off animals all the time ‘round here. Besides, church grims ain’t ‘sposed to be real. Just a bedtime story hunters tell their kids to make them feel safe.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, Dean used to tell me about them when I was real little. I thought they only stayed in cemeteries, though.”

“Graveyards,” Dean corrected. “They’re attached to a church. So I guess if the church gets burned down…”

“The dog goes free,” Sam finished, grinning. “Wow! This is kinda awesome! He can protect us and we can play fetch and all sorts of stuff!”

Dean looked back down at its paws quietly. “Ya know, I never did tell you the real story.”

“Huh?”

“About church grims. I told you they buried an animal there before any people, that way it could stay behind and protect the souls, lead them to the afterlife, that sort of shit.”

Sam looked confusedly at his new dog. “They don’t do that?”

“They do, it’s just…” Dean trailed off, glancing up at the six eyes. “They would bury the animal alive.” Sam was silent, so Dean went on, “His paws are bloody and I can’t wipe them clean.”

“He was trying to…” Sam started before fading off.

“Yeah.”

He heard Sam sniff and watched as the hound looked over in Sam’s direction.

Dean looked at where the dog was looking and put out a hand, easily landing on Sam’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “Hey. Look at me. We’re gonna take care of him, okay?”

Sam offered him a smile he couldn’t see. “Okay.”

Jo leaned out from behind the grim. “So do we get to name him now?”

Dean watched its tongue loll out, all six eyes bright and shining.

Dean grinned. “Aw, hell yeah.”

\---

“Protector,” Sam offered up over spaghetti, after they had finally convinced the adults that keeping a mythological creature in the house was okay.

“Why?” Dean asked through his food.

“He protected me in my nightmare last night!” Sam said, smiling wide.

Bobby sighed and rubbed his temples. “So you knew the damn thing wasn’t a normal dog the whole time.”

Sam shrugged. “I thought maybe it was a coincidence.”

Jo’s fork clattered down as she dropped it in excitement. “Ooo! Ooo! What if we called him Shadow?”

Dean snorted. “Or Icicle.”

Jo stuck her tongue out. “We’re not calling a black dog Icicle.”

“Oh wait, he’s black?” Dean looked at the grim, laying serenely by the table. “He’s white to me. He’s also got six eyes.”

“Huh,” Sam said. “Six eyes? How about Cerberus, then?”

“Too predictable,” Dean responded, twirling his fork in his spaghetti. “We could always use the original Kerberos, though?”

“Nah. Anubis?”

“Nah. Set?”

“Nah. Storm?”

“Nah.” Dean sighed and looked over at the grim. “What do you want to be called, boy?”

They regarded each other, two eyes to six, and suddenly Dean’s mouth was dripping out, “Venn.”

Sam slurped up a noodle. “Venn? Like the diagram?”

Dean pursed his lips. “That’s what he wants to be called.”

“Huh. Venn. Okay, but Kerberos was cooler.”

They all went back to eating, and Dean occasionally glanced over at Venn. He could feel it, almost tangible in the air around them.

_What do you want to be called, boy?_

_Friend._

\---

Dean yawned, uncurling himself from his third of Bobby’s bed and staggering out, rubbing his eyes. He blinked them open a few times and saw Venn pacing slowly.

“Venn,” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

Venn immediately sat down and looked at Dean pointedly.

“Just gettin’ some water,” Dean told him, hand out to feel the walls.

He ran into somebody.

“Oh, Dean,” Sam said quietly.

“Sam? Why are you up?”

Sam was quiet, and Venn’s ears folded back against his head.

“Sam.”

“Oh, Dean,” he repeated.

Dean sighed and gently looped his arm through Sam’s. “C’mon. Let’s go get some ice water. Sound good?”

Sam made some noncommittal noise as Dean led him down the stairs, Venn shortly behind.

Dean turned the sink on and filled two glasses and a bowl. He sat the bowl on the floor and handed Sam his water. “Where are you, Sam?”

Sam suddenly grabbed Dean’s arms, desperation in his voice. “We’re not supposed to be here, Dean. This is bad. We need to go. We need to go _now.”_

“Woah there cowboy, slow down. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

“This is _wrong!”_

“It’s just a mental thing, Sammy. You can learn to live with it.”

“NO! This… This is wrong. Dean, we need to go. We _need to go.”_

“Sam. Breathe.”

Sam breathed heavily for a moment before slipping back into his state of disassociation.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Hey, look. Let’s just get back to bed, okay?”

“Mm.”

Dean led them back upstairs as Venn watched them curiously from behind.


	14. In Which it's Christmas Eve But the Author Didn't Plan This Right so it's Uploading After Christmas

Life slowly returned to normal. Ellen and Jo decided to stay for the holidays, which meant that Bobby was decorating for the first time in years. Ellen was helping him haul old strings of lights downstairs, trying to keep Venn from chewing on loose cords.

“Ya know, we're gonna have to go get a tree,” Ellen said, leaning against a wall to take a short break.

“Yeah, the kids'll be upset if we don't. There's a farm not too far from here, but I was thinkin’ maybe we just go rustle one up from the forest. Let 'em each take a swing at it.”

Ellen grinned. “Sounds good. We gotta hurry with these lights before they all get home, though. Gotta surprise 'em.”

Bobby handed her a beer and got one for himself. “My bet is that, right now, Sam and Jo are runnin’ around wild, and Dean is tryin’ to make them behave at the station.”

“He's really got a knack for that job, doesn't he?” Ellen asked, taking a swig from her beer.

“It's the damnedest thing, I'll tell ya. Kid can't even see, but he's just so good at following directions that it don't even matter.”

Ellen rolled her eyes. “And here I had almost forgotten he was John's kid.”

“Not anymore, he ain't.”

Ellen regarded Bobby thoughtfully before raising her bottle. “To the kids?”

Bobby tapped his bottle against hers. “To the kids.”

\---

“Can you two  _ please  _ stop running around long enough for me to do my goddamn job?!” Dean yelled as Sam and Jo ran around the tiny space the station called an office.

Sam paused in his running, causing Jo to crash into him. “You could let us go to our hideout.”

Dean groaned and laid his head on the desk. “I can't let y'all go alone. If something happened, it'd be on my head.”

Jo shrugged. “Guess we'll just keep running, then.”

Dean huffed and raised his head, going back to typing up reports.

“Are you almost done?” Sam asked a little while later, when he and Jo finally sat down.

Dean took his hand off the Braille sheet and began typing it into the computer. “Bout an hour more.”

Sam groaned loudly. “Can we explore the station?”

“Knock yourself out.”

\---

Sam and Jo took turns sliding down the firepole, much to the amusement of the on-duty firefighters.

“Who's your little girlfriend, Sammy?” Harold called up, grinning.

Sam stuck his tongue out at them. “She's my  _ sister.” _

“Dean never mentioned a sister.”

Sam slid down the pole and ran over to him. “Well, she ain't my sister  _ yet  _ but she will be soon!”

Harold laughed softly. “So you two finally got Bobby Singer a date?”

“Yep! She's staying for Christmas!”

“I didn't realize Bobby celebrated Christmas.”

Jo landed behind Sam and walked over. “Why wouldn't he?” she asked, eyes wide.

Harold rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “He just… doesn't quite seem the type.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Anyway. You two been good? Santa gonna bring ya lots of presents?”

Sam nodded as Jo's eyes grew impossibly wide.

“I've been good!” she yelled out before turning and running off.

“Jo, wait!” Sam called out, running after her.

Elrod snickered beside Harold. “Real smooth, Chief.”

\---

Sam wasn't surprised to find Jo in a tree just outside the station.

“Jo!” he called up.

She shook her head and scooted closer to the trunk, arms crossed.

Sam sighed and began climbing, being careful where he put his feet, lest he lose his arm again.

He pulled himself up onto the thick branch beside Jo, sitting down with a huff. “What's wrong?” he asked.

Jo looked at him with big, teary eyes. “I don't wanna be kicked out.”

Sam almost laughed. “Who's gonna kick you out?”

“Dean said that adults will kick you out if you've been bad.”

“Jo, you haven't been bad.”

“But I have!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “No, Jo, you haven't.”

Jo wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her coat. “I lied to a grown-up.”

“We all have.”

Jo shook her head. “But I didn't have to lie but I did! This big man came up while I was shopping with Mama! I was in the cereal aisle and she was getting milk, and he asked me if I knew you and Dean! And I said no!”

“What did he look like?”

Jo sniffed. “He was really tall, and he had dark hair and a beard, and a leather jacket. He just was really scary and I didn't wanna tell him the truth! And now Mama's gonna kick me out!”

Sam felt himself slip off the branch.

\---

Dean's head snapped up from his work.

It was hard to miss a blur of white fur when everything else didn't exist.

And even if it wasn't, the scream of a little girl was enough to rouse everyone in the station.

Dean was running out the door, not even bothering with his coat. He vaguely heard Jo scream his name, but he was too busy kneeling by Venn.

He put his hand on Venn's muzzle, and Venn nudged it into curly hair.

“Sam?” Dean asked quietly.

No response.

“Sam?” Dean asked again, breath hitching.

He barely heard the soft gasps behind him.

“Sammy?” Dean's hand traced over his brother's face, his other gently shaking his shoulder.

Venn nudged Dean's face, and Dean pushed him away. “Sam,” he said again.

The grim laid his head down where Dean could see it. Could see the bloody handprint across his face. Dean reached out to smudge it away.

It got worse.

The silence that had surrounded him suddenly gave way to a rushing ocean, and the feeling of someone trying to pull him away.

Dean felt his fist connect with jaw vacantly, felt his hands run over his own face, felt his knees give out until he was kneeling by his little brother again. He was holding Sam's face, he was whispering things his tongue didn't know, he was begging, he was crying, he was-

“Dean,” someone said behind him, hands stuttering over Dean’s side. “Dean,” they repeated, hands forcing his head to turn towards them. “It’s over. It’s over. Come here.”

“No,” Dean choked out, turning back to Sam.

“Dean,” the voice said again, softly, steadily. “There’s nothin’ you can do. We’ve already got an ambulance on the way, okay? Come here.”

Venn’s nose was against Dean’s side, pushing him towards Elrod.

Elrod, Dean remembered hazily.

Elrod’s hands found Dean’s face again, and his forehead rested against Dean’s. “You ain’t doin’ him no good here screamin’ about him. Okay? And all the jostlin’ probably ain’t helpin’ either.”

Dean’s breath hitched and stuttered. “He’s my  _ brother,”  _ Dean said, his hands gripping hard at Elrod’s wrists.

“I know.”

Dean glanced over at Venn. “You don’t take him, okay? Don’t you dare take him,” he demanded, voice faltering.

Venn gazed at him steadily.

“Come on,” Elrod whispered, gently pulling Dean away from Sam.

“He’s my brother,” Dean repeated shakily, as if that had any sway on fate itself.

“I know.”

Between the gentle pushing of Venn and the soft pulling of Elrod, Dean was ushered away from his baby brother.

“Dean?” he heard from where he'd just left, followed by a soft cough.

His head whipped around, eyes wide. “Sam?”

There was more coughing, and Dean ran over to Sam, hardly hearing Elrod’s soft, “I’ll be damned.”

“Sam Sam Sam Sam,” Dean babbled, hands on either side of his brother’s face.

“Dean, Jesus, you look like  _ death,”  _ Sam said, reaching up to smear the blood off Dean’s face.

“Shut the fuck up,” Dean said, tears rolling.

Sam sat up, hands going to Dean’s. “What happened?”

Dean shook his head, hands still firmly on Sam’s face. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I was working, and I saw Venn, and you were laying here and there was just… blood everywhere, all over your head and I-... God, Sammy, I thought you were  _ gone.” _

“Hmm,” Sam hummed in confusion. “Oh, oh. I fell out of the tree.”

Dean’s forehead was against Sam’s. “Why were you in a tree? I told you two, I  _ told _ you-”

“I know. But Jo got upset and-” Sam cut himself off, eyes wide. “Dean. Dean, I remember now.”

Dean’s eyes were wide as his fingers touched the back of Sam’s head. “Sam, Sam. We’ve gotta… We’ve gotta get home so we can… I don’t know how to fix…”

Sam gently touched the back of his own head. “Oh. Oh fuck. That’s weird. Maybe superglue?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. That’ll work. That’ll work. Can you walk? Let’s go home.”

“Dean. I think the entire town is watching us.”

“No, no. It’s okay. We’ll just… We’re just gonna go home and no one will care and it’ll be okay, okay?”

“Dean.”

Dean’s hands were against his own face now. “I can fix this. I can fix this.”

“Dean.”

Venn’s head nuzzled Dean’s chin, forcing him to open his eyes. “Sam?”

“Dad’s in town.”


	15. In Which the Bad Things are Ignored and They Celebrate Friggin' Christmas

Bobby leaned back in his chair, sipping at a beer. “We did good, El,” he said, smiling at the lights.

“Yeah we did,” Ellen said beside him. “The kids are gonna love it.”

They were quiet a while, the conversation they hadn't had making itself known.

“Bobby,” Ellen said, sighing, “what are we?”

“Damn good decorators.”

Ellen smiled. “No. I mean, us. This. What are we callin’ it?”

Bobby glanced over at her, watched the way the Christmas lights twinkled in her eyes. “Right.”

She regarded him softly. “But what am I s'posed to tell people? 'This is my boyfriend Bobby’?”

Bobby shrugged. “Ya could just take the 'boyfriend’ bit out.”

“This is my Bobby?”

He smiled at her. “And you can be my Ellen.”

Ellen leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against his lips, the first of its kind. “My Bobby,” she repeated, smiling.

“My Ellen,” he whispered back, pressing another soft kiss against her mouth.

They smiled broadly at one another, the loving silence broken only by a ringtone.

Ellen gave him an apologetic smile as she pulled out her cell phone. “It's Jo,” she told him, flipping it open. “Hey, honey. What's- woah, woah, Joanna Beth Harvelle, slow down! One thing at a time.” She listened to a few words and immediately put it on speaker.

“-fell out of the tree! And Dean ran out of the fire place and Sam was bleeding and Venn was there and Dean punched the chief! And one of the guys pulled him away and Sam woke up and the whole town was watching and the back of Sam's head is messed up and-”

“Jo!” Bobby cut her off. “Where are you?”

“The woods.” 

Bobby cursed and Ellen asked, “Why are you in the woods?”

“Dean said they were calling an ambulance and we couldn't let Sam go there so we ran and he said we could come up with an excuse later and-”

“Jo! Honey! Are the boys with you?”

“Yes.”

“Put Dean on the phone,” Bobby said, already feeling fear grow in his chest.

“I can't.”

“What? Why not?”

“He stopped following the path and he's just wandering around and he won't say anything to us and Venn is going  _ crazy _ -”

“Put Sam on the phone!”

There was some shuffling, some faint dog barking, and then, “Ellen?”

“Both of us, hon. Where  _ exactly  _ are you three?”

“Uh, go- go to the park. There's a teeter-totter. Head west for ten - ten? Ten minutes or so, then when you see a treehouse, turn north for fifteen. You should find us.”

Bobby was already grabbing his keys and coat. “Sam, put me on speaker.”

There was a pause, then, “Okay.”

“Sam and Jo, I don't know what's happening right now but you need to  _ stay together. _ Keep an eye on everyone, got it?” Bobby closed the door behind him and Ellen and they jumped into his truck.

“Yes, sir,” came two responses.

“We'll be there as soon as we can.”

“Okay,” Sam said. “Um, stay away from the station. They'd probably stop you.”

“Good thinkin’. Keep everyone safe, son.”

He hung up and started his truck, but Ellen put a hand over his. “Wait. No. Let's go in my truck. They'll be lookin’ for yours.”

“Good call.”

\---

It took them just under twenty minutes to find the kids. They had run the whole way, trusting the path markers instead of the times Sam had given them.

“Kids!” Ellen yelled.

Sam and Jo turned to them, relief obvious in their faces.

“Mama!” Jo yelled, meeting Ellen halfway and jumping into her arms.

Ellen held her tight and ran over to Sam, wrapping him up with her free arm. Bobby was close behind, hugging him tightly.

“Are you okay?” Bobby asked, turning Sam's head to inspect it.

Sam hid his face. “Yeah. Dean um…” He cleared his throat and gestured to the trees circling them.

There were symbols on all of them, drawn hastily in blood.

Bobby scanned the clearing for Dean, finally spotting him with his forehead against a tree, Venn pulling at his pant leg.

Bobby ran over to him, turning him around to face him. “Dean,” Bobby said in relief, pulling him into a hug. “God, boy. You're covered in blood.”

Dean shook his head, mumbling.

Sam gently pulled Venn away. “He's been like that ever since he healed me. He just… stopped making sense.”

“I'm sorry,” Jo whispered against her mom's shirt.

“Dean, listen to me. Can you hear me?” Bobby said, hands on Dean's shoulders.

Dean furrowed his brow. “Hear you?”

“Hear me. Dean, we're gonna go now. We're going to the Roadhouse, okay?”

“But I don't…” Dean reached out to Venn. “Dog.”

“Dean! Focus. You've gotta focus. Can Sam leave this tree ring?”

“Ring around the rosie,” Dean mumbled, staggering back against the tree. “Gotta… gotta leave. Gotta leave.”

Sam nudged Bobby gently. “We've done this before. I can leave. It's okay. He just never acted like this after.”

“Sammy?” Dean asked, pushing himself off the tree. “Sammy.”

Sam seemed surprised to hear Dean addressing him. “Yeah, Dean. It's me. It's Sam.”

“Sammy,” Dean reiterated. “Can't see anything.”

“You're blind, Dean.”

Dean turned his head left and right. “Gotta keep moving. We can’t be here. We’re not supposed to be here.”

Sam draped one of Dean's arms around his shoulders, wrapping his own arm around Dean's waist. “C'mon, Dean. We're gonna keep moving.”

“This is… This is wrong.”

“Shh, Dean. It’s okay.”

“Dad-”

“Dean,” Sam said, shushing him again.

“Jo?” Dean called out. “Jo Jo Jo Jo Jo Jo Jo.”

Ellen sat Jo down. “I'm here,” Jo said weakly.

Dean unwrapped himself from Sam and held out his arms. “Don't leave.”

Jo ran into them, hugging him hard. “I'm sorry I'm  _ so so  _ sorry!”

Bobby and Ellen exchanged a glance.

“Kids,” Bobby finally said. “We gotta go.”

Jo pulled herself out of Dean's arms, eyes welled up with tears.

Dean took a step towards her and fell down, chin scraping the ground.

“Dean!” Bobby yelled, picking him up.

Blood flowed from his nose and he laughed. “Ashes, ashes...”

\---

By the time they got back to Ellen's truck, Dean had returned to muttering nonsense. Venn curled up on his lap as they left.

Dean unbuckled himself.

“Dean,” Sam chided, rebuckling him.

Dean unbuckled Sam.

_ “Dean.” _

Dean reached to unbuckle himself again, stopping only when Venn growled at him. He stared at the dog as it bit a blue paper towel and thrust it into Dean's hands.

Dean tore it into tiny pieces, muttering nonsense.

Ellen pulled onto the interstate and let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. “Alright kiddos, spill. What happened that you ain't tellin’ us?”

Jo brought her knees up to her chest. “It was my fault,” she whispered.

Sam huffed. “It was not. It wasn't anyone's fault. Well, no. It was Dad's, actually.”

Bobby turned in his seat to look at Sam. “Who? John?”

Dean's fist slammed into the window and he opened his eyes wide, breathing hard. “What-... What happened? Am I in a car? Sam? SAM!”

“I'm here!” Sam reassured hastily, hand on Dean's arm. “You're in Ellen's truck. We're headed to the Roadhouse. Papa and Jo are here, too. Ellen's driving.”

His breathing calmed as he felt Sam's face, other hand bruising fast and resting on Venn. “What happened?”

Bobby felt the final throes of fear leave his heart. “Sam and Jo were just about to tell us that.”

Jo looked away. “Dean told us to stay inside but I didn't listen and I climbed a tree outside. I went really high up and Sam came after me. I was upset because I didn't want Mama to kick me out.”

Ellen's eyebrows raised in surprise. “Why would I kick you out?”

Jo's bottom lip wobbled. “Because I'm not good.”

“Oh, Jo… Honey, you're very good. And even if you weren't, I wouldn't kick you out. Parents don't do that.”

“Dean said they did.”

Ellen frowned. “Dean didn't have good parents.”

Sam piped up, “Jo told me that-” He glanced at Dean, who hunched in on himself. “Jo told me what she did that made her think she was bad, and I fell out of the tree. It wasn't her fault.” Sam furrowed his brow. “I remembered Heaven.”

The silence was deafening.

“I-” Dean started, voice hoarse, “I saw Venn and I ran outside to Sam and I just…thought he was dead. For real. But he uh, he wasn't but everyone was around and I panicked and Jo came down and we all ran into the woods. I remember making a healing circle and then… then everything's blank.” Dean averted his gaze, then sighed. “I could’ve sworn… I… I thought I saw Dad. We were… We were in a hotel? I dunno. It’s fading.”

Sam shook his head. “Dude, once you saw I was okay, you just… went haywire. You were wandering aimlessly and mumbling and we couldn't get any sense out of you.”

“What? For how long?”

Sam did some mental math. “Like. Forty minutes? Give or take?”

Dean furrowed his brow. “I remember feeling really stressed. I- oh my gosh. Holy-” He ran a hand over his face. “I had a seizure.”

Sam's eyes went wide. “No, no. You weren't like… spasming or anything. Just really confused and-”

“And wandering around, yeah, you told me.” Dean buried his face in Venn's back. “I had a goddamn seizure.” He let out a shuddering breath. “I feel so tired. So fucking tired.”

“You were  _ that _ stressed? Dean, I'm okay, you  _ saw  _ that I was okay!”

Dean's face shot up and he looked towards Sam, eyes watering up. “You were fucking  _ dead,  _ Sam! I  _ felt  _ it! And then everyone was there, and I didn't have an excuse, and then you go and fucking tell me that  _ Dad is in town! _ Dad! Dad is  _ dead! He's supposed to be  _ **_fucking dead!”_ ** Dean's head was in his hands and he was gasping for air. “Oh my god. He's gonna kill me. He's gonna kill me and then he's gonna take you back and he's gonna find Mom and and mom's gonna be back and I can't I can't I  _ can't-” _

“DEAN!” Bobby yelled, dragging him out of his ramblings. “Stop thinking about it.  _ Now.  _ We're leaving the entire state. He'll be gone by the time we get back, okay? I'm not letting him get you.”

Dean's cheeks began streaking with black. “How are you gonna stop him? You think we haven't run away before? He always finds us. He  _ always  _ finds us.”

“I've got a shotgun.”

Sam looked at Dean, terrified. “Look, it might not-... It might not even be him, okay? Jo just said she saw a tall guy with dark hair and a leather jacket. That could be… That could be anyone.”

“He looked like Dean,” Jo said quietly.

Bobby shook his head. “Dean looks more like his mom than his dad.”

“No,” Jo said, hunching in on herself more. “They got the same eyes.”

“White?”

“Black.”

\---

Dean laid with his head against Sam's shoulder, too tired to pretend he was okay. Sam was running his fingers through Dean's hair, trying to calm him.

“Tell me about Heaven,” Dean finally said two hours into their trip.

Sam smiled. “Do you remember that one time we were exploring the town while Dad was away? And we followed this path, and ended up at this giant meadow?”

“With all the purple flowers?”

“Yeah. I was there. And so were you. It was like… like time hadn't passed, and we were there again. And we climbed that big apple tree in the center, and we ate lunch up there, and we almost just stayed forever.”

Dean half-laughed. “Why didn't we? We would've spared ourselves so much heartache if we had.”

“Yeah. Maybe we should've.” Sam frowned. “It was nice.”

“Maybe we'll go back someday,” Dean whispered, nodding off.

Yeah, Sam thought. Maybe you will.

\---

Christmas at Ellen's wasn't bad.

They stayed in the bar for a while, drinking their fill of root beer floats and choosing random songs off the jukebox. They got to decorate a tree and build a snowman outside before running in for hot chocolate and cookies.

Charlie Brown was on the TV as the three kids huddled up under one blanket and the adults sat in the kitchen.

“Did you call Jody?” Ellen asked quietly.

“Yeah. Told her Sam had a concussion and he just bleeds a hell of a lot. We took him to a hospital upstate, if she asks.”

Ellen nodded and sighed. “A demon is after those kids, Bobby.”

“I realize. And they won't tell us the whole damn story, either.”

“I think… I think Dean's afraid you'll kick him out, just like Jo was. Poor kid. John really messed him up.”

“I just wish he'd trust me. He had a  _ seizure  _ today because of how stressed he was. That ain't okay.”

“It just takes time, especially for kids like him.”

“Mama!” Jo yelled from the living room. “The one you like is on!”

Ellen gave Bobby a soft smile. “C'mon. We're safe here. Let's go watch some Christmas shows.” She took his hand and led him into the living room, where they sat beside the kids.

_ The Year Without a Santa Claus _ started as the patchwork family huddled together on the couch, Venn jumping up to lay across them all.

Sam looked at everyone and smiled to himself, glancing out the window to watch the falling snow.

Dean fidgeted. “Dude. You have goosebumps. Are you cold or something?”

“Our snowman is walking towards the house.”


	16. In Which Things are Finally Settled

Almost immediately, Venn’s ears perked up and he growled low, standing at the door in one quick leap. Dean watched him walk right through where the door should’ve been, disappearing from his view.

Bobby and Ellen grabbed the kids and hauled them deep into the house before going to get their salt rounds and shotguns.

Sam looked around desperately, looked at all the ways it could get in. “Dean,” he said, “I’m willing to bet it’s not after Jo and it’d leave her alone. It’s after us.”

Dean breathed out and nodded. “You’re right. Jo, stay here. Sam and I are gonna go hide somewhere else so you’ll be safer.”

Jo’s eyes were wide. “But what if it comes in here?!”

Dean cradled her face encouragingly. “It won’t. We’ll lay down salt outside the door.”

The two boys ran to the kitchen, briefly glancing at Bobby and Ellen outside, firing away at the monster. Sam handed Dean a big bag of salt and led him back to the door.

“Inside,” Sam said. “Not outside. It could use something to mess it up outside.”

Dean nodded and opened the door, laying down a salt line - well, salt pile that spread across the whole doorway. “Sam, I hate that you’re so good at this but I’m kinda proud,” Dean said after Sam confirmed his line.

Sam grinned and shut the door, waving to Jo as he did. “Jo, lock the door,” he called out through it.

There was the soft click of the door locking, and then Sam sighed in relief.

“So, where are we going?” Dean asked. “I don’t know this house well enough yet.”

Sam looked around, thinking. “Okay go… Go upstairs. It’s ten steps, and then there’ll be a door on your right. Go, hurry!”

Sam kept his hand on Dean’s back as they went upstairs. Dean’s hand found the doorknob easily and he ducked inside, reaching back to pull Sammy in, too.

His hand slid off Sam’s.

He flexed his hand in confusion. “Why are you so sweaty?”

“I… I don’t wanna live forever, Dean.”

“What?”

“She isn’t after you. She was never after you. It’s me she wants.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Sam-”

The door slammed shut and locked from the outside.

Dean pounded his fists against it, yelling loudly, “SAM! SAM COME BACK HERE!”

“I love you,” Sam said through the wood. “So forget about me, okay?”

Dean could finally smell the sharp tang of blood on his hands. “Sammy, don’t do this… Please… You’re all I have left.”

“You’ve got Jo and Bobby and Ellen now. And Venn! You’ll be okay, Dean.”

“I can’t live without you,” Dean choked out.

“You can’t live with me, either.”

Dean pounded furiously on the door, but it didn’t budge. “SAMMY!” Dean yelled out, punching until his hands were covered in his own blood, too. “Sam… I… I need you.”

\---

It was almost an hour before Bobby and Ellen found Jo huddled in the bathroom.

“Where’s Sam and Dean?” Bobby asked.

“They said the monster was after them so they hid somewhere else to keep me safe.”

Ellen picked up Jo and they ran through the house, yelling out, “Dean!”

“Papa!” came the answering yell from upstairs, hoarse and desperate. There was incessant pounding on the door until Bobby unlocked it, catching Dean in his arms.

“Are you okay? Dean, your hands-”

“SAM!” Dean yelled out, immediately running down the hall, crashing into the far window. “SAM!”

“Dean!” Bobby caught him as he ran the other direction, picking him up off the ground despite his struggling. “What happened? Where’s Sam?”

Dean fought desperately to be let down. “He left! He locked me up and he left and he’s gonna sacrifice himself to Mom!”

“Oh… Dean,” Ellen said softly, letting Jo down. “Let’s go track him down. I’m sure he couldn’t have gotten far. That snowman wasn’t a demon. It was just animated.”

“SAM ANIMATED IT!” Dean yelled. “With fucking blood magic! It was a distraction and we all  _ fucking fell for it!” _

“Dean,” Bobby said, holding on tight, “your mom is dead.”

Dean shook his head wildly, eyes squeezed shut. “No. No, she’s got Dad now, too.” His eyes snapped open. “You’ve got to go. You’ve all got to go! He’s gonna come after me and I can’t let you get hurt!”

Bobby huffed in irritation at the vague words. “Why would your father be after you, Dean?”

Dean struggled harder. “BECAUSE I KILLED HIM, OKAY?!” he screamed out, kicking and thrashing. “I killed him! And I killed Mom! And I used dark magic to turn Sam into a zombie! And I made a deal with a demon! And I talked to God! And you know what she  _ fucking said?  _ She said good job! She told me fucking  _ good job  _ because she  _ knew  _ I was going to kill my entire fucking family and she was  _ proud  _ of me! And now Sam’s gonna die! Because I didn’t kill Mom  _ enough _ and she’s coming back for him!” He laughed, sharp and insane. “She wants Sam to rule  _ Hell.  _ She called him a  _ king. _ She stole his  _ soul, what the fuck was I supposed to  _ **_do?!_ ** I put it back in! I used my own fucking  _ father  _ to put it back in him, and I didn’t even do it right and he got all  _ fucked up _ so if anyone should be going out there to die it’s  _ me!” _

There was a long silence while Dean heaved in air, shivering.

“Ellen,” Bobby said flatly, “go get the guns.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright babes, I'm uploading these last three chapters at once because I'm not THAT evil lol so enjoy!


	17. In Which Dean Can See

“Dean,” Sam said, shouldering him, “bet ya ten bucks Dad doesn’t get back until past midnight.”

Dean snorted. “Why would I agree to that? He never gets back until past midnight.” He glanced around the old shack they were staying in, frowning. “Besides, we’ll be lucky if this place is still standing when he comes home.”

Sam sighed dramatically, flopping back against the floor. “What’s even _in_ Lawrence, anyway?”

“Our old house, for one.”

“Why can’t we stay _there?”_ Sam complained.

“Because someone else lives there now, dork.”

Sam huffed in annoyance. “He could’ve gotten us somewhere better than this dingy old dump.”

The front door opened and slammed shut, causing Sam to jump.

The two watched their father stride right past them, large bag in tote. He headed upstairs and slammed another door behind him.

“Shoulda taken that bet,” Sam said, grinning.

\---

John dumped the contents of the bag into the center of a sigil he had drawn on the floor. He lit a few candles, said a few words.

Dean knocked on the door. “Dad?” he said through it.

John sprinkled some herbs on the middle of the circle, and tossed a final handful onto the candles.

“Daaaaaad,” Sam said beside Dean.

“I’m busy,” he yelled back, sitting back on his feet and waiting.

He watched Mary’s corpse begin to rise.

\---

Dean looked at Sam, eyebrow raised.

Sam shrugged. “Maybe it’s presents?”

\---

Mary opened her eyes to pure, stark black.

“Hiya, Johnny,” she said. “Nice to see you again.”

John’s eyes grew wide and he clambored backwards. “No, you can’t be-”

“Word to the wise: If you’re gonna bring someone back from the dead, make sure their body isn’t contaminated first.”

“You’re-”

“Azazel. Nice to meet ya.” Azazel put out a hand as if to shake John’s, but instead pushed it inside his chest and squeezed his heart until it burst.

\---

“I hear voices,” Sam mumbled, ear to the door. “Someone else is in there with him.”

“Do you know who it is?” Dean asked, trying to peep under the door.

“No clue.”

\---

Azazel’s feet made no sound as they walked across the room, taking in the sigil on the floor. “Nifty,” he said in Mary’s voice. His eyes slid to the door and he grinned wide, holding out a hand and sending the door flying open. “Boys!”

Sam and Dean froze, eyes wide.

“Sam,” Dean said low, urgent.

“Dean.”

“That’s Mom.”

“Mom’s dead.”

“Mom’s dead,” Dean confirmed. His eyes drifted to his father, who was seemingly fast asleep. “I think Dad brought her back.”

Sam frowned at Mary. “You’re bleeding, Mom,” he said, motioning to her hand.

“Oh! Wouldya look at that!” she wiped it off on her white gown. “My, my. My little Sam! You’ve grown so much, ya know. Last time I saw _you,_ you were a wee little baby!”

“Your eyes are black,” Dean noted aloud.

Mary shrugged. “That’s what your eyes look like when you’ve been dead for as long as I was.” She slid her eyes back over to Sam. “Where are you?” she asked, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

Sam gave her a confused look. “I’m here.”

She pointed to the floor around her. “You’re not here. Where are you?”

“Oh,” Sam said, stepping into the room. “I’m here.”

She smiled wide at him, stepping over John’s body to hug him tightly. “I’ve missed you, son.”

Dean frowned, unable to shake the feeling in his stomach. “Um, Sam? Maybe don’t… don’t get so close to-”

He was cut off by Mary, who flung him against the wall with a flick of her head. Dean's mouth opened wide, eyes bugging as he was held off the floor by his throat, legs kicking uselessly.

Sam’s eyes widened and he stepped backwards, out of her embrace. “Get away,” he said shakily.

“Don’t you see?” she asked, stepping towards him. “You belong with me, Sam. You are destined for greatness.”

“I don’t care!” he yelled, backing himself into a wall.

She bracketed him, not allowing him any escape. “Come with me,” she whispered low, sweet, sultry. “You are the Boy King. Hell will _bow_ before you.” She grinned in his face, mouth impossibly wide. “You. Will. _Reign.”_

Dean’s legs weren’t kicking so much anymore. His eyes were rolling back.

“No,” Sam said, trying to duck under her arms to help his brother.

She grabbed the front of his shirt, hauling him up into the air, hissing, “Then I will take your soul myself, torture it into its perfect mold, and guide you to fulfillment.” Her hand reached out, and in, and Sam was screaming.

Until he was silent.

His body slumped to the floor and she vanished, leaving Dean to crash into the ground. He coughed hard and gasped in air, willing himself onto his hands and knees. He crawled over to Sam, his vision swimming.

“Sam,” he tried to say. It came out like wood scraping against sandpaper. He rolled the body onto its back and pushed Sam’s bangs out of his eyes. “Sammy.”

The corpse did not respond.

 _“Sam!”_ Dean yelled to no avail.

He didn’t know what to do. He was a kid - he was just a _kid!_

“Sam-”

Sam looked up at him for the first time through baby eyes, curling his tiny fist around Dean's finger.

_“Sam-”_

Sam played outside, smiling back at Dean.

 _“Sa-am,”_ Dean sobbed.

Sam gazed at the ceiling with lifeless eyes.

“Please,” he said to the horror-stricken room. “Please. Please, someone help me! I’ll do anything. _Please!”_

The last word came out as a sob.

“Anything is a large void,” someone said.

Dean’s head snapped up, and he had to shield his eyes against the brightness. “Can you help me?” he pleaded.

“Yes. For a price.”

“Anything.”

“Again, you say anything. Do you even know who I am? What I’m capable of?”

“Can you give me Sammy back?”

“No. But I know someone who can teach you how to bring him back yourself.”

“Okay. What do you want?”

“What if I said your soul?”

Dean paled. “My soul?”

“That is the most logical form of payment.”

“I’d… I’d say okay.”

The being shook its head. “See, that’s why you humans get into these situations in the first place. You have no common sense.” It levelled its bright gaze against Dean’s. “Never give up your soul.”

“Okay.”

“I would usually ask for your name.”

“My… name?”

“Yes. May I have your name?”

Dean glanced down at Sam’s vacant stare. “I shouldn’t give up my name either, huh?”

“You’re learning. Now I will ask for my actual fare. Are you prepared?”

Dean nodded, swallowing hard.

“I want your eyes.”

“My eyes? Why?”

“Oh, why your eyes? But not ‘why my name’ or ‘why my soul’? Honestly.”

Dean waited patiently, and the being sighed, “Names have been the currency of my people for very long. Souls have been the worldwide for longer. But _eyes_. Now, eyes are not only more unique than names, but are the windows into the soul. I can find you again with your eyes.”

“Why would you want to find me again?” Dean asked, chills running down his spine.

“Do you want to save your brother?”

“Of course!”

“Then do we have a deal?”

Dean glanced at the bright, outstretched hand. “Say the deal outright.”

It laughed. “Smarter and smarter. You give me your eyes, and I let you speak to someone who can show you how to bring your brother back.”

“He will be as he was before she killed him?”

“Yes. A living, breathing, mostly normal human boy. I’ll even throw in a pair of new eyes for you. They won’t be able to see anything, of course, but at least you’ll have something rolling around in there.”

“And they’ll cause no adverse effects?”

“Truly, your intelligence baffles me. None whatsoever. Though the tears aren’t clear, but that’s merely a cosmetical defect.”

Dean held out his hand. “Okay. Deal.”

The thing’s hand seared into his palm, and he saw bright white, then nothing at all.

The floor dropped out from beneath him.

“Hello,” a soft voice said. “You’ve been sent to me.”

He tried to locate the origin of the sound. “You can teach me how to bring Sammy back?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you?”

“Some call me God,” she said.

“You’re God?”

“To some.”

Dean sat down heavily. “Please. Teach me what to do.”

“Before we start, there is something you must know. All magic comes with a price, my child. The price must match what is being done. Does this make sense to you?”

“It does.”

“The price for bringing someone truly back from the dead is the sacrifice of another life.”

“I… I have to kill someone?”

“You’re not bringing Sam back from the dead, are you, though? You have his soul and his lifeforce, and his body is still fresh. All _you_ are trying to do is seal those pesky things back into the body.”

“So…”

“So you merely must sacrifice a single body. No lifeforce within is required. The body of your mother shall do nicely.”

Dean reeled back. “But she’s still alive!”

There was a soft hand against his cheek. “No, my dear, she is not truly. Your father failed in his mission. I’m giving you the chance to succeed with your brother. Are you going to accept it?”

She smelled like flowers and oceans, and Dean closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes. I accept.”

He could feel her smile radiating off of her. “I am proud of you, child. You will do a good job, I am sure of it.”

Dean relaxed under her gaze. “I’m ready.”

“Then give me your hands. I have much to show you.”

\---

When Dean returned to the room, he made no hesitations cutting across his palm, using the blood to draw the shapes they had practiced, over and over. He dragged Sam’s body to the center, praying his father wouldn’t wake up before this was over. He didn’t want to explain.

He made a mark on Sam’s forehead, breathed out, and recited the spell God had taught him.

He felt Mary’s presence before he heard her.

“My, my. You learned how to summon me. Charming.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, before he breathed out the ancient words.

He smelled burnt skin and heard screaming. There was a thud as her body landed lifeless, and Sam gasped in a breath.

\---

Dean held his fingers against his dad’s pulse point, breathing harder and harder. “No,” he choked out. “No. It wasn’t supposed to- I never meant for it to-”

“Dean,” Sam said quietly.

Dean turned towards his voice, eyes brimming with tears.

Sam was silent for a long time. “Dean?” he finally squeaked out.

Dean wiped his tears away. “Sam.”

He heard Sam release a shuddery exhale. “I… I don’t have a pulse, either.”


	18. In Which They Hunt Down Sam, OR, In Which It's The End

Dean told them all of this as they trudged through the undergrowth, his voice shaky and apologetic.

“We… We buried Dad and… and burnt the house down. That's all we knew to do. That's supposed… that's supposed to make sure things don't come back.”

Bobby was silent, absorbing it all.

“I never meant to kill him,” Dean whispered, finally. “I never meant for any of this bad stuff to happen. I just… I wanted my brother back.”

Bobby sighed and pulled Dean in for a hug, pressing a kiss to his head. “Look, none of that was your fault. You did what you thought you had to do. Ain’t your bad that some weird creature gave you a shit deal.”

Dean sniffed. “It was a demon.”

“It wasn’t a demon.”

Dean glanced up, eyebrows furrowed. “How was it not? It made a deal with me.”

“Demons ain’t the only things that do that, son. And they sure enough ain’t bright. Demons have black eyes, Dean. Your mother was possessed by a demon.”

His eyes widened. “So she-”

“It was never her in the first place.”

Dean let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t kill her.”

“And if I know anything about demons, I’d bet you didn’t kill your father, either. But you also didn’t kill that demon, and now Sam’s gone for it.”

Dean's heart beat faster. “Then what did I sell my eyes to?” he whispered.

Venn stopped sniffing the ground and turned to look at a place off in the distance.

“No,” Bobby said, groaning.

“What? Where are we?”

Jo leaned against Dean. “We’re at a treehouse.”

\---

Sam stepped back from his handiwork, cradling his hand softly. The sigil was just like he had seen it in every nightmare since that day.

“Mom,” he said softly, pacing the floor of the treehouse. “I’m here. I’m ready for you.”

“That so?” Sam turned around to see his father leaning against the wall. “And here I was thinking I’d have to hijack you again.”

“I had thought maybe you were him now.”

“Smart kid. So you’re ready to be the Boy King of Hell, rule by my side for all eternity and plunge the world into a chaos like it has never known?”

“Under one condition.”

“Hmm. What’s that?”

“You gotta promise not to hurt my family.”

John laughed. “You don’t have any family left, kid. Well, besides that shitty brother of yours.”

“I have Dean, Jo, Bobby, Ellen, and Venn. And anyone they decide to call family.”

“That’s a lot of people.”

“It’s my condition.”

John popped his neck. “Alrighty. Sounds good. Just so ya know, that brother of yours is climbing up the tree as we speak.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “No…”

“Yep. Bet he’s pretty upset that you locked him up like the freak he is, huh?”

“How did he-”

“They have a dog that can sniff out evil. Why are you even surprised.”

Sam looked up at John. “You’re evil?”

“You knew that already. I’m a demon, kid. I’ve watched you grow. My very own blood flows in your veins.” John snickered. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

Dean pounded on the trapdoor. “Let me in!”

John grinned at Sam. “We should let him in.”

“No!”

“Um, yes.” And with a flick of his hand, the door sprung open.

“Dean, get out of here,” Sam warned.

Dean climbed in anyway. “No fuckin’ way.”

“Heya kid,” John said, teeth flashing. “Glad I didn’t strangle ya like I said I was going to. This is way more fun. I can kill you nice and slow here for your brother to watch. Start his training early.”

Sam turned to him, eyes wide. “We had a deal!”

John rolled his eyes. “Listen, both of ya. It’s not a demon deal if it’s not sealed with a kiss.”

“Then I’m not going with you!”

“Aw, cute kid. You still think you have a choice.” John picked Sam up by his throat. “Maybe I _will_ kill you. Maybe I’ll kill you and grab your soul before it heads upstairs, and drag you _screaming_ down to me.”

“Dean,” Sam choked out, trying desperately to get air.

Dean glared towards John, arms crossed. “Sick ‘em.”

Venn _leapt_ through the trapdoor, flying through John and out the other side, black smog in his teeth. His mouth opened wide, wider, so wide Dean almost wished he couldn’t see the grim and its endless rows of teeth. It roared - it fucking _roared_ and demolished the smoke, biting in and shredding it to pieces until there was nothing left.

Sam watched, eyes wide, as it licked the floor clean.

“Venn,” he said, awestruck.

It turned its head sharply to him and opened its mouth wide, biting through Sam’s head.

Or at least, that’s what Dean saw.

Sam giggled as Venn licked his face, and Dean watched in terror as Venn tore demon blood straight out of Sam’s veins.

Sam gasped in a breath and fell backwards. “What-” He looked up at Dean, smiling wide. “Dean. _Dean._ I have a pulse again!”

Dean knelt beside Sam, feeling for himself. “But how-” Dean cut himself off and looked back at Venn, who had a very smug look on his little doggy face. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

Venn shrugged before stretching out like a cat, his limbs growing longer and thicker until a glowing humanoid creature was in front of them. “I was wondering how long it would take you,” Venn said, eyebrow arching.

Dean scowled at it. “You fucking lied to me! You said Sam would go back to normal!”

“And here he is, back to normal! I even threw in the length his hair should’ve grown to. You never did give me a time frame.”

Dean felt his rage dissipate. “I guess I didn’t.”

“I found you again. Are you glad?”

“I am.”

“Was this a good deal?”

Dean pondered it. “I… I think so. Yes.”

“Any questions, while I am here?”

“What are you?”

“I’m a church grim.”

“No, I mean, really.”

It grinned at him. “A church grim. My job is to lead you to the afterlife. I did that. You just happened to come back.”

“What did you do with my eyes?”

It snorted. “Ah, those. You can have them back now, if you wish.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Yes. I’m quite done with them. I merely needed them to manifest with an earthly form for a while. I do have a few things to keep in order, and you two boys are one of them.”

“You…”

“Or did you not notice that we switched eyes? Surely you noticed my bottom and top pair are, in fact, the exact same as yours?”

“I… Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Good. So are you going to accept them or am I going to leave with them?”

“I want them!” Dean yelled out.

It smirked. “Very well. Come here.”

Dean walked closer and Venn put his head down, forehead resting against Dean’s. “Stare at me, child,” it said.

Everything shifted for a moment, and Dean was once again looking at a dog. “Venn?”

A voice came from around him, “Ah, sorry. You can only see me if you are me or are being led by me. Are we very done here? I have other things to do, and manifesting inside a stray is not one of them.”

“Thank you,” Dean said quietly, surprised.

“You’re welcome. We’ll meet again someday.”

The room grew colder, and the black dog barked.

\---

Dean climbed down with Sammy, not saying a word.

“Dean?” Sam asked.

Dean’s feet touched the ground and he stamped towards the waiting family.

“Dean?” Sam tried again.

Dean reeled on him. “What?! You just went to sacrifice your own damn life! To a _demon,_ no less! I could have _lost you_ , Sam. Do you understand what that would do to me? It’d fucking _kill_ me!”

“I… I-I didn’t mean to-”

Dean’s arms surrounded him, and Dean was crying clear tears onto his face. “Don’t you _ever_ do that again,” Dean whispered, lips against Sam’s forehead.

“Okay,” Sam whispered back. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. We should’ve been fucking talking about this. The whole time.”

Sam nodded.

“I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, too, Dean.”

Dean shuddered out a breath and looked over at their family. “All clear,” he choked out.

They surrounded the two of them, hugging tight and kissing all over faces, demanding to know how the plan went but knowing full well that it succeeded anyways.

Sam and Dean exchanged soft smiles as they were coddled, and Dean closed his eyes and relaxed for the first time in months.

They were finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT  
> Hello.  
> This is me, the author, and I'm here to give you a warning.  
> The next chapter is the alternate ending. It is, actually, the ending I originally wrote. But you've stuck with this fic for so long that I couldn't simply... let it end the way I had written.  
> So if you like happy endings, stop here.  
> If you prefer for your world to flip upside-down, keep reading.
> 
> Either way! Thank you for reading, and I appreciate each and every one of you!


	19. In Which It's an Alternate Ending

“One more thing,” that familiar voice said behind them, laughing slightly. They all turned to look at a disheveled man. “I had to go make a new deal because I almost forgot something! Silly me!”

Sam and Dean looked at each other. “Okay?”

Venn laughed again. “Okay so, there are timelines, right? Tens of billions of ‘em. My job is to keep people on the right one, leading them to their right _death._ Anything can change a timeline. Just the teensiest thing and _boom!_ Everything's messed up.”

“Why are you-” Sam started, only to be cut off.

“You're all in the wrong timeline. Which means I've gotta fix it. So if you don't mind,” Venn reached out a spindly hand, “please just hold still.”

Jo ran off screaming and everyone staggered back.

“Oh, come now. Don't make this difficult. It will hardly hurt, and you won't remember anything.”

“Why didn't you fix it before it got so off course then?!” Dean yelled.

“Ah, good question, see,” Venn climbed over to him on all fours, knees bending the wrong way, “there was a chance this would all lead to the same general outcome. Namely, the Apocalypse. So I let it play out. However, I have travelled down this world from this point on, and nothing goes right. So I'm sending you all back. I'm ah, _resetting,_ if you will.”

Dean grabbed Bobby's shotgun, pumping a shell in and aiming. “Then you knew from the beginning!”

Venn rolled his eyes. “Like I said, there were some choices you could have made that you didn't. And I will _admit_ that I was slightly curious. I mean, Dean Winchester, I led you to your death in that shack. And you came back. I wanted to see why she let you.”

Dean shot him in the chest. “Because we had a deal!” he yelled.

Venn sighed. “The deal never involved you actually being able to _act_ upon your new knowledge, child. You weren't supposed to come back. Now, please stop dragging this out. I have a schedule to keep.”

Sam's eyes grew impossibly wide as Bobby pulled him away from Venn. “But we're all _happy!”_ Sam insisted.

“Mm, yes. So sorry. Not my rules, just my job. Hold still.”

Dean ran at Venn and Venn flung him easily to the side, his skull cracking against a tree.

 _“No!”_ Sam screamed.

Bobby and Ellen grabbed Sam and ran, but only made it a few steps before they too crumpled to the ground.

Sam scrambled away from Venn as he approached, chest heaving. Venn reached out for him, fingers impossibly long and sharp.

His hand paused. “Oh, and Sam? You're hungry.”

\---

Sam jerked awake in the back of the Impala, signs cruising past at high speeds.

A sign for Lawrence, Kansas, showed up, and John put on his blinker.

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. There was something he was supposed to remember. Like a dream that had slipped away.

His stomach growled.

“Hey Dad?” Sam said.

John jumped at Sam's voice and turned the blinker off. “Yeah, Sam?”

“I'm hungry.”

John glanced at the backseat where Dean was slumped against the window.

They passed the exit.

“I think there's a diner about an hour ahead if you can wait that long.”

Sam nodded and shrugged. “Okay.”

Dean groaned as he woke up, green eyes shining in the sun.

Sam frowned at him, momentarily thinking they were wrong.

He looked out his own window and could've sworn he saw a black dog staring at them from the edges of a town.

But it was just his imagination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final tag: Canon Compliant
> 
> i'm sorry
> 
> feel free to yell at me over on tumblr @crack--attack


End file.
